Star-Crossed
by starhawk2005
Summary: Crack!fic; a fanfic author discovers that the Norse god she's been writing fics about is….real.
1. Chapter 1

**Star-Crossed**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: June 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Crack!fic; a smut-fic author discovers that the Norse god she's been writing fics about is….real. And horny. ;)**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Loki. He owns **_**US**_**.**

**Authors' Note: This is rather…**_**experimental**_** . Starhawk wrote the OC's POV, and Cincoflex wrote Loki's, so it's kind of a blend of fic and roleplay….**

She shivers, watching the portal of green fire twist in the middle of the living room. She cannot believe it - _he_ - is real.

It had started innocently enough. Life was not cooperating, and just to blow off steam, she'd blogged an 'open letter' to Loki, asking him why he was determined to ruin her life.

She'd laughed, her commenters had laughed, and that was the end of it. Or so she thought.

A week later, the message. Appearing mysteriously in the middle of the Word document (yes, an erotic fanfiction!) she was working on. It claimed to be from Loki, and it mocked her, telling her he had ruined her life the better to encourage her to focus her writing and her attentions entirely on _him_.

That was where it began.

She had mocked him right back, engaging him in a battle of sharpened wits, and at some point, things had become...seductive.

She found herself wanting to believe it _was_ Loki, and not some hacker with a thing for Marvel-flavoured kink.

When he tempted her with bed-games they could play, she met him fantasy for fantasy. When he chided her for defying him and threatened to 'correct' her, she told him it was _about time_.

When he told her: _By the time the sun sets I expect you to offer yourself—meekly and obediently—for discipline. You have been sulky and headstrong in our negotiations and while it was amusing at first, I cannot allow it to go any further, not without correction,_ she laughed at the sheer absurdity.

So the green portal shimmering before her is...a surprise.

She thinks she knows where it goes. One of his messages to her had said he maintained something he called a 'pocket universe', a place where he could remain safe from prying eyes like those of Heimdallr. He'd told her it was a valley, ringed around with old, dark pines, silvered eternally with frost.

But that is not what stirs her fears. If this is real, does she really _desire_ this? It is one thing to tease and play pretend. If this is real, if Loki is real, then she could be playing with fire. And the immortal is unlikely to be the one burned.

Curiosity and need wins out. And although she had promised to appear before him, naked and on her knees for his punishment, she finds herself searching a little-used drawer, trying to find something acceptable, enticing. Something that might lessen the keen edge of punishment, if possible.

She finds something wedged at the very back of the drawer. She acquired this a long time ago. It is black and sheer, panties that edged with black lace. Above the lacy waistband is a part resembling a corset, made of sheer black fabric that clings and softly hugs her curves, stretching halfway up her ribs. More black lace down the front, and the back is slit from the top of the corset to just above the curve of her backside, this slit held closed by cross-tied black ribbon...it may serve. She strips down and steps into it, praying her Dark Prince will like it.

She stands in front of the portal, taking a deep breath. She steps through, her vision fading into a green glow.

When her eyes work again, she's in a long room. She can see polished slate stone floors covered with wolf-skin rugs, and one end of the room is dominated by a throne of ancient yew and pale marble, heavily carved with runes. Next to it is a small cushion of thick grey rabbit fur. And she knows exactly who that cushion is intended for. His pet.

_Her._

At the other end of the room is a large bed, luxurious and opulent, adorned with elaborately carved ivory bedposts that end in snakeheads with jeweled eyes. The mattress is piled with pillows of black and gold, the bedclothes obviously made from the finest fabrics - wool, silk, fur.

In front of the bed is a thick carpet with an exquisite border of dragons and serpents, and on that is a seat of gold, backless and with low arms, upholstered with a velvet cushion of green.

On_ that_ lounges a long and impatient figure.

His gaze burns into hers. "My patience is not endless!"

"Oh shit," she mutters under her breath before she can stop herself. Then she freezes; the mouse before the snake. All plans of defending herself shattering to pieces before his beauty.

Loki glares. "Do NOT add tardiness to your punishment."

She goes to her knees immediately, and then remembers herself. She does not know why, but whenever she wrote to him, she found herself mirroring his odd sentence construction, and she finds the same thing happening now. Even her thought processes have been invaded. She no longer _thinks_ like the modern human woman from the year 2013, that she was before she stepped through the green ring of fire appearing in her home.

"Please forgive me, my Lord, but although I promised to appear to you in the nude, I thought you might enjoy it even more if I wore _this_. Alas, it took me longer than I expected to find it." Better she tell him that, than the truth; that she had not believed he was real.

"I . . . approve. In this circumstance I will permit it." Loki rises and circles, gaze missing nothing. "Are you cold?"

She looks down at herself. She is bare to the waist - she had no brassiere which matched - and her nipples are hardened. It _is_ chilly in here, though it could also be the burning weight of Loki's assessment of her form. She prays that he likes what he sees...

"A little, my Lord Loki. Thank you for your concern," she smiles, but can't quite bring herself to raise her gaze to his. "But I can bear it, for you."

Loki smiles, revealing dimples. There is a glow to his eyes, a hint of ruby that gleams out. "And so you shall. Given what is to come, you may need cooling down."

He moves to the golden seat and drops himself into it, watching his pet. "Rise and turn for me; I would like to see more of what you are . . . almost wearing."

She restrains an amused noise at his choice of words - ''almost-wearing', indeed- and she rises to her feet, slowly turning to let him examine her from every angle. At least she feels the heavy weight of his smoky gaze a little less when her back is to him.

She turns to face him again, shifting from foot to foot as the silence becomes oppressive. "Do you like what you see, my Prince? Did I choose my attire well, even if it made me late to our...appointment?" she finally asks. Anything to break the thick silence. She has not even truly had a chance to _look_ at him, she has been too occupied trying to mollify him.

Because she has no idea how far he'll try to take her. How much 'correction' he expects her to withstand. She bites her lip, waiting for his response, finally daring to look up at him to assess his mood. He's wearing a dark green shirt, black leather pants, and black boots, she notices at last.

Loki brings a hand to his chin, gazing at her with keen interest. "You're nervous. It adds a luster to your eyes. I rather like that."

She manages a small laugh. "I fail to see how I could NOT be nervous, my Lord. I was brought here to be punished, after all." She lowers her gaze again. "And after that, I do not know what you will do with me. So many things we discussed - collaring, 'grooming', games with gems, and relentless teasing of certain..._sensitive_ areas. I know not what you have in store for me at all, my Dark Lord."

He motions her forward, sliding one hand under her chin to lift it, locking gazes with her. His smile is small and his gaze intense. "The not knowing . . . that's part of what excites you. I know it does, I can _feel_ it does. Oh little Star of mine, your heart is speeding up even now."

Loki can see her breathing deepen, and he lets his fingers slide away from her chin, one by one before speaking again. "I know what you are trying to do, pet, and charming though your seduction attempt is, I still must punish you. Oh you look lovely, and I confess your choice of garment is . . . distracting, but you _have_ transgressed, and need to learn that I always mean what I say. Tell me pet, confess. How have you been a bad, bad girl?"

It's his best croon, the low, seducer's tone that has gotten him invited into many a bed, but this time it comes naturally, easily as he watches the girl in front of him. There is still a hint of defiance to her bare shoulders and the temptation of her perky breasts almost distracts him.

She stirs him, oh yes she does. She's a bold one at times, and the night is looking very promising indeed as he waits for her to speak up.

She blushes. "You do not know what I had planned to do if you had refused me again this night. And I am also realizing that I failed to discuss something very important with you."

His brows draw together, and Loki glares. "I refused you? Oh how rich the impertinence! You are dealing with a god, not some brainless Midgardian male that you bat your eyes at!"

She can feel some of her _other_ self (from the other side of the portal) fighting to return. "Stop putting my people down. I told you I was ready last night to submit, and you ignored me. What else should I call it?" She matches him glare for glare.

Loki draws a breath and forces himself to relax as he leans back in the chair. "No. I see I must be mistaken. You're not ready yet, not fully aware that my time is not yours, and that no-one-"

She steps back, shaking her head. "This is so not working. I didn't- I wasn't- What the hell am I supposed to do _now_?"

He reaches for her, catches one hand and pulls her to stand between his knees as he meets her gaze. "I. Am. A. God. I cannot promise to be at your beck and call, but I can assure you that ignoring you is not what I want to do."

"Are men the same _everywhere_? You're picking up on exactly the wrong thing. I thought you wanted me to tell you what I was going to do when you left me alone. I did NOT want you to jump on me like I was accusing you of abandoning me! I wasn't trying to say you wanted to ignore me."

He laughs. "Perhaps this is why I am the god of fools. Clearly I need to listen to my OWN words. Shall we try again, luscious little hell-cat?"

"I don't know. I have a bad feeling that there are pit-traps lying in wait for me everywhere, and no matter what I say, somehow it will wind up being the wrong thing." She stares down at the floor. Or tries to. She is standing too close to_ him_.

The scent of her skin, touched with musk, arousal and tension makes him tense. Loki slides a hand around one of her hips and lets his touch linger even as he blows lightly along her shoulder. "You have been sulky and disobedient. I have been foolish. Therefore we need to . . . rectify ourselves."

Talk is not going to work, she decides. Instead, she kneels down between his feet and bows her head. And puts her hand lightly on his thigh. "Since I cannot seem to please you with my words, my Lord, tell me what I can _do_ to please you." This has to be the safer path, if there is one. Maybe there isn't.

Her throat is so dry. "If you wish to punish me, then I beg you to begin. Tell me how and where you want me to position myself. I have displeased you, and I continue to displease, apparently. So I beg you to allow me to set it right, Loki." Then she resolves not to say anything else, if it can be helped.

Except, there is still that one _small_ matter. She bites her lip and stares down at the carpet beneath them. "And should you decide you want to have sex with me, we need to think about some kind of birth control. I'm not prepared to have another kid, and I don't think you'd find me too much fun to be around when I'm pregnant - I get tired easily and have _zero_ interest in sex. Not that you probably find me that much fun right now," she adds, the last sentence a lot softer than the rest. _Then_ she resolves not to say anything else, if she can possibly help it. This is not going at all the way she predicted or wanted.

Loki reaches a hand down and encircles her slender wrist, feeling the warmth of her skin. He thinks to himself how much he wants this girl, how her very nearness is making him hyper-aware of his needs.

"Across my lap," he tells her, his deep voice slightly raspy. "And when you are there, I will tell you not only what I'm going to do, but what will follow after."

She gets up slowly, trying to ignore how her legs are trembling. She circles even more slowly around to the side of the chair, as if she is walking to face the executioner, aware of his hand still firm around her wrist, of how his eyes are locked on her bared breasts.

There is something so decadent about being half-naked in this opulent setting, and she would be enjoying it so very much more, if she were less anxious about what was coming.

She is not sure how to settle herself on him, but Loki solves the dilemma, drawing her forward by the wrist until she is laid face-down across his lap, arranged the way he wants her - head and breasts hanging down, her backside poised high in the air. She feels his hand on her inner thigh, pressing her legs wider apart, and she does not resist, even though she _wants_ to. She bites her lip hard as she attempts to empty her mind; if she thinks too much about what's coming, she might just panic, and she cannot imagine that _that _will end well.

His thighs are like steel underneath her, the scent of leather and pure _maleness_ envelops her. And she can feel _him_, aroused and rampant, pressing into her side. She shivers, trying to decide where to place her hands. On his thigh? Let them dangle free in front of her? Tuck them down next to her own sides? But then her arm would be pressed to the bulge in his pants-

"This lace is pretty, but under it, your tender skin . . ." he drawls, big hand gliding up one rounded cheek, "is very soft. Now listen carefully, little hell-cat. You have vexed me approximately six times in the last few days. Because I am a good master I have kept count, you see, and now . . . now _you_ will keep count for _me_. I think that for six moments of sulky defiance you more than _deserve _six smacks."

She tries to move her arm, but Loki lifts it and folds it so that the outside of her wrist lies at the small of her back; the way it would if she had them crossed there at parade rest.

The other he keeps a grip on.

"I'm tempted to bind you, but now is not the time. Consider it a little test of your self-control," he murmurs thoughtfully, his long fingers in a loose hold around her wrist.

She says nothing. Six blows, she can take six blows. She can do this. Then she realizes Loki is waiting for an answer. "Yes, my Prince."

"Trying to be a good girl now won't stop me," he purrs back, secretly amused and seriously aroused. What_ is_ it about this girl that gets under his skin like this?

She does not know what to say to that. But he's waiting _again_, damn him. Honesty might work, she tries that: "I don't know what you want me to say." Why does he not _just get on with it_?

Loki draws in a quick breath, and lets his hand rise and drop, hard. The resounding smack is loud in the quiet room, and his palm stings with sweet pleasure even as he feels himself throb.

_Gods. This is delicious_! he thinks, fighting to stay calm. Under him he feels Star flinch, a little gasp chuffing out of her as much of surprise as pain.

It hurts, but not as bad as she expected. "One," she says, but she clenches her jaw in anticipation, because it can only get worse from here.

Loki lets his hand slide off her cheek reluctantly, and cocks it again, gritting his teeth. She weighs nothing, and yet the heat of her . . .

She feels Loki shift underneath her, his arousal rubbing against her bent arm. She tenses a little more, waiting for the next blow. She's not going to cry out, damn it. She won't give him the satisfaction.

He strikes, the blow swift and stinging, this one on the other cheek, and the crack is satisfyingly sweet. Loki rubs the spot a moment and gives a low chuckle. "_Number_, or I will have to add another stroke to the punishment."

"Two," she grits out. Of course he _would_. She ignores the heat building between her thighs, or at least she makes an effort to do so. Her arousal is a victory for him too, isn't it?

He blows a breath down on her skin, letting his frost breath ever-so-lightly kiss the pinkening surface of her ass.

She jerks at the coolness, clenching her hands into fists.

"How you fight it, that streak of rebellion in you," Loki rumbles with delight. "You're trying so hard not to react and yet your entire body is on edge."

His is too, he knows, but it's not important. Not AS important as hers right now. Loki sends another stinging blow against her ass, noting his finger-marks against her skin.

She is ready this time, so when the blow lands, she turns the sound wrenched out of her throat into the required number at the same time. "Three," she barks. Halfway there. It _hurts_, though. He's not hitting her harder, but her skin is hypersensitive now. Sweat springs out all over her body, and tears prickle in her eyes, but she blinks them away quickly.

Then he is massaging her again, _caressing_ much of the sting away, and she feels another icy exhalation curl around her hip. There's an insistent throbbing between her wide-splayed thighs, her body responding almost without her will to his gentler touches. He knows from their previous messages how interested she is in his Jotunn side, in how his cold touch might feel - no doubt that is part of his game, too.

He's playing her like an instrument, each pain followed by its soothing. Keeping her on edge, just as he said he would.

Loki breathes deeply, taking in the scent of her arousal, aware of the lovely cleft of her ass, and the hint of curls visible between her thighs. The rosy heat of her cheeks looks marvelous, and he throbs, feeling his cock strain against Star's light weight. Every smack so far has brought matters into sharp focus.

"Halfway done," he sighs. "How you must hate me. Poor little pet humiliated like this because even though she's furious, she's so very, very aroused. I can feel you, I can _smell_ the honey of your need, Puss."

_Then _fucking_ do something about it,_ she wants to scream. But that would be little more than playing right into his hands, so she merely says: "Yes, my Lord," because he's surely expecting some kind of response, and maybe that one will get her in the least amount of trouble. Then she tightens her jaw until it aches and glares straight ahead through the locks of hair that have fallen over her face, half-blinding her, and says nothing more. No doubt he's looking for any excuse to add to her punishment, and she won't give him that.

The ribbon running down between her thighs is slick now, and Loki hooks a finger under it, tugging up and making the girl squirm slightly. He grins. "Be still . . . oh, you can't, can you? Rather too much sensitivity right now, my naughty pet?" He really must provide more lingerie like this, Loki muses. The potential is delightful.

Still, there is the matter of her delectable ass, and he strikes again, managing to aim the blow low; between the rounded bottom of her ass and the soft crease of her upper thighs. Loki knows the sting of it will flush through and along the insides of her legs, heating more of the soft fur there.

He waits, savoring this lovely moment-will she remember to count?

She flinches, surprise finally drawing a whimper out of her. Sharp tingles and heat seem to sizzle from the hot palm of his hand into her skin, and then radiate deep into her core. She arches her back before she can stop herself, wishing her body would stop _responding_ - even her nipples are prickling to attention.

Now he's found a way to hurt and excite her_ at the same time_.

Bastard. "Four," she snarls, but she can't stop herself squeezing her thighs together. _Only two left, only two left,_ she chants inside her mind.

Loki forces himself to calm down a bit, although it's a serious challenge to his self-control. To have her warm weight pressing down on his erection in just the right way, to feel the heat radiating from her is dizzying. A part of him wonders if it's part of Jotunn nature to seek heat and master it. He trails his fingers along the inside of her thigh, enough to be felt, to torment.

She wriggles and he strikes, a wide-palmed smack that makes a meaty sound.

_This_, Loki thinks with a mental growl, _is very nearly addictive._ There is fire in his pet, and her grind against him is making it nearly impossible to concentrate.

She chokes out the number, her voice husky now, so he reaches for the bow at the top of the corset, tugging it impatiently, one finger working the laces loose. "Shhhh, you can take more," he croons.

"_One_ more, my Lord," she rasps out, without thinking about the possible consequences, that he might choose to interpret this as more rebellion and decide to add on a few more spanks.

She can feel him loosening each lacing of the corset one at a time, then softly, ticklishly stroking her bared skin, working his slow way down towards her abused posterior. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch. His length is pressing into her side, hard, and some impulse makes her wriggle against it. The faster she can goad him into delivering the last smack, the sooner this will end, she hopes-

He dangles the cool satin string along one reddened cheek, aware that his pet is still pushing a bit, but he's enjoying it now, anticipating each little move. "One more?"

She tenses all her muscles. "Yes, please, Loki," she manages to say. To _lie._

An idea occurs to him; devious, slightly cruel, but perfect. Loki delivers the last strike, and leaves his hand braced on her stinging skin. Swiftly, he lets his Jotunn form cover his hand, the chill radiating immediately against her abused skin, coldly.

He swears he can almost _hear _the sizzle.

This isn't like the previous blows. There's the expected sting and then..._ice_. She nearly jumps out of her skin. "What the hell-!" she sputters, fully aware of Loki laughing wickedly at her reaction. The sensation seeps into her skin, coolness cancelling out the heat, and she shudders and goes limp, resting her head against his thigh. "You're a bastard," she says, without much conviction.

He chuckles again, and suddenly the touch is lighter, almost tender. "I am, in many ways. You deserve a bite for that. I punish you, and even _now_ you try to curse me. What a beautifully fractious creature you are."

"Pot, meet kettle," she mutters.

"Mmmmm. I _want_ you," he adds, the words conversational, but his hands roaming now, moving to tickle the backs of her knees.

"Yikes!" she jerks away - she's definitely sensitive there. "Then stop teasing and just. Get. On. With. It."

Loki manages to scoop her up and rise all in one strong motion, his tone huskier. "Pushy, I believe you Midgardians call it. Were my need not so great I would prolong this, but like a good master I sense you need_ me_."

"Christ, do you ever stop _talking_?" She grabs his face in her hands and kisses him. Hard.

He opens his mouth, the purr of a laugh against her lips as he waits for her tongue.

It darts against his, sugar-hot and questing, eager. Loki quickly catches her tongue with his teeth, lightly raking it, letting his senses savor her taste.

She twists fingers tightly into his hair. He was the aggressor, now it's her turn. She explores his mouth hungrily, trying not to smile at his low moan - _surprised you, did I, God of Mischief?_ But she realizes it's getting dangerous now, unless she can make him understand-

She breaks the kiss, stating firmly against his mouth. Three words: "Birth. Control. _Loki_." Raising the child of a god of chaos? No thanks.

He shakes his head slightly, his lips brushing over hers. "Hush now," he whispers, but she's not done. "And you're wearing way too many clothes," she adds in a growl, pulling at the collar of his shirt, but he cuts her off with more kisses, wet and deep, hungry.

He feels control slipping now as the wolf within him rises. Star squirms and tries to wrap herself around him but he carries her in a few quick steps to the bed dropping her there and leaning over her, smirking. He strips out of his shirt, not missing the admiring gaze she runs down his chest and lean arms. "I should say _you_ are wearing too many clothes as well," he purrs down at her.

He reaches fingers to the top edges of the now-loose corset and tugs; it slides down and stops mid-thigh, exposing the delicate nest of curls neatly framed between her hips. Loki laughs at her slightly stunned expression, and purses his lips. "Caught like the little hare you are."

She moves to push the corset down even further, but Loki catches her wrists and presses them to the mattress pinning them next to her hips. He leans further down and runs his nose along her pubic curls breathing in deeply. The perfume of her lust makes him painfully hard now, and when he looks up the planes of her body he can see the flushed peaks of her nipples pebbled and stiff.

She struggles, wanting him, wanting _more_, but she's well and truly caught.

Carefully Loki presses a kiss, letting his tongue flick along the wet seam under that fur, and even as his pet gives a quick, pleasured cry, he flips her over. Her hands fly to brace herself, but he catches the corset and pulls up, arching her with her lovely ass in the air, the posture familiar from mere moments ago.

She tries to protest, but before she can do more than begin a threat, Loki nips one red cheek and then the other, quick light bites that aren't meant to hurt, only to make her shudder.

When she does, he hooks his hands under her thighs and begins to lick the backs of them, letting his tongue move along that tender skin just at the crease of buttock and thigh.

Delicious. The taste of salt and musk, a hint of perfume and the ripe scent of arousal drive him on, and Loki lets his kisses push deeper, reaching the same wet seam. He sucks, licks, nibbles, as she tries frantically to open her legs against the bind of the corset.

She arches desperately, needing to expose herself more fully, but he's intent on tormenting her, it seems. She pants and whimpers, heat and pressure swirling from where his tongue and teeth are tantalizing her.

Wetter and wetter now, and the urge to take her from behind is making him throb, but instead-

Panting now, he pulls the corset off and gives a tender nudge. His pet rolls on one hip, her eyes huge and full of fire. She reaches for his fly, scrabbling to free his cock, and then pushing his trousers down from his hips. It takes a moment, and when her small hands caress him Loki hisses, fighting hard against the pleasure of seeing his thick prick filling her grip, of feeling her reverent strokes along his length.

That doesn't last long though-she pulls impatiently at_ his_ hips, her legs slithering around his thighs as her hissed curses fill the air. Loki runs one big hand up her stomach to cup the underside of one breast and leans down, letting her guide him to the cleft between her legs.

"_Loki_," she says by way of warning and reminder. But even he can see the battle within her, lust about to declare victory over logic and apprehension.

"My seed will not find purchase within you," he whispers hoarsely and thrusts.

The mad, luscious heat of her cunt forces a growl from him, makes him shake even as he thrusts again, driving deep with a lovely squelch. She is ready, SO ready and Loki lets his lust free, hips rocking hard to hers, his hands cupping the hot globes of her ass. No thoughts, just fevered kisses and the perfect primitive rhythm of their bodies grinding together wetly. The crest rises, and he feels himself moving harder and faster, feels his pet begin to shudder.

She can't catch her breath, head thrown back on the pillows, her backside aching sweetly from the pressure of his fingers. Waves of sensation tear through her each time he buries himself inside her to the hilt, robbing her of any ability to think. She can only hold on and let him break her apart.

Her hands clutch his ribs, and all along his aching shaft her tight quim _squeezes _in powerful, sensual pulses that . . . oh gods . . . that . . .Loki feels himself roar as thick surges pump out of him, each splash lost in the slick depths that are milking him.

It takes the last of his control not to collapse on top of Star, but he manages to brace himself on his forearms in wobbly fashion, breathless, bowed and empty. Loki lifts his head, seeking her face, wanting something he cannot name.

She looks up at him, hair tangled and damp around her face, cheeks flushed, but her eyes! Oh her eyes are deep and dark, drinking him in, filled with . . . wonder.

_Oh God, that was...was..._ 'amazing' doesn't even begin to cover it. She doesn't even want to move, ever again, if she can help it. Blanketed in sweat, heavy-limbed, she looks up at him and smiles.

He drops a kiss on her mouth-not the heavy possessive kiss, but instead a quiet, almost shy kiss because he cannot take much of what she holds in that gaze.

He shifts down and curls up around her, laying his head on her stomach, enveloped in her warmth as he wraps her tightly in his arms. Her fingers curl through his hair again, stroking his scalp as if he is _her _pet, and he'll _allow _it for now, he decides. He'll permit her to rest, but _then_-

She blushes as a loud, angry rumble emanates from her belly. Right under Loki's ear. "Thank you, digestive system, for ruining the moment," she retorts sarcastically, though she also smiles.

Loki looks up at her and smirks. She even speaks defiantly to herself. Such an _amusing _little pet he has acquired. With care he strokes her stomach in a slow and meandering way.

"The care and feeding of a pet," he murmurs. "Stay here."

He closes his eyes, letting the magic force solidify into ghostly hands, and soon the scent of a savory stew begins to grow from the heavy iron pot in the fireplace. Loki rises from the bed, absently tucking himself back into his trousers and concentrates again. This is difficult, since the sight of his lovely toy sprawled across it is both charming and arousing. The temptation to simply take her once again rises, but he senses care over lust is what the moment calls for.

More magic, and this time four pairs of ghostly hands are shifting stones along the floor, opening a portal that reveals itself to be a steaming pool at the bottom of circling stone steps. Loki holds his arms out to his sides and the hands shift, finally undressing him fully, taking each item away and carrying it off to a large wooden chest beyond the bed. It's self-indulgent of course; Loki knows he could just as easily undress himself and do it quicker, but he senses eyes upon him, and his vanity is piqued.

He hopes she likes what she is seeing. He is no Asgardian of brawn and rounded muscle, no massive mountain hewn like a glacier. No, Loki knows his lines are long and sinewy, length favored over bulk. He has muscle, yes, but it's hidden at times, and kept from view, all the better to fool his foes. Fortunately legends of the Jotunn are accurate when it comes to stories of pricks, and Loki knows his own endowment is more than enough to draw envy from those who sit in the Allfather's hall. Even Thor has admitted some envy; a minor point but one that Loki remembers with masculine pride.

She rolls slowly up into a sitting position, watching the unusual proceedings. Christ, he's _gorgeous_, though she's not sure whether telling him so would be a good idea. He'll probably either turn insufferably smug, or mock her for thinking a God's body could be anything other than sheer perfection. Best to comment on more neutral things: "Boy, it sure would be nice to have _that _ability when I got home from the office!" she notes enviously, motioning at the stewpot.

Loki sees the blush on her cheeks though, and knows a distraction when he hears one. Settling for a robe of pale green linen, he returns to the bed and holds out a hand to her. "Leave those matters back on your world," he orders, gently. "This is a time for us, not the realms we belong to."

She looks slightly rebellious and slightly embarrassed; Loki tugs her up from the mattress admiring her sleek nudity. A fine-featured thing is she; delicate and yet no child, with hips to cradle him and legs to ride him. Those thoughts stir Loki again, and he makes no attempt to hide it.

And his pet notices, yes she does. Even as she gives a little gasp, he slides an arm around her waist and steers her towards the spiraling steps. "Care first, then feeding; is this not how one tames a kitten?"

There's a glint in her eyes that makes Loki think he will_ pay _for that remark, but she follows him down the steps until they reach the bottom, where the rocky pool steams enticingly. As a creature of rock and ice, Loki is sensitive to both setting and temperature, so while the water is hot, it's bearable, and he helps Star in, watching her pale skin turn rosy in the steam. The ends of her hair drift in the water as she lowers herself and luxuriates in the sensations. As for himself, Loki finds the water soothing and refreshing-after all, what is water but ice with heat?

One pair of the ghostly hands carefully lifts her hair and piles it up, securing it with a sleek wooden pin carved like a serpent. The hands drift away, and in the light of the oil lamps Loki leans back to watch his pet play.

This is new, this sensation. Seeing someone enjoying something he has made. Seeing someone happy to be with him. Loki feels an odd twist in his chest; fear and longing and over it, a sense of rare delight. He doesn't understand, and he's afraid to lose it.

She can understand why Loki might want her to leave her home on the other side of the portal, but then what exactly are they supposed to talk about? His choice of home furnishings? The workings of the spell required to conjure ghostly disembodied hands (useful but rather odd, in her considered opinion)? How To Train Your Disembodied Hands?

Instead, she only says: "Thank you," gives him a warm smile, and leans back against the rock wall of the pool, closing her eyes and relaxing as much as she can; her backside still aches faintly, and there's also the matter of Loki's penetrating gaze fixed on her - she is well aware of it, even if she can't see it.

His earlier 'kitten' comment comes back to her, and she begins humming Whitesnake's 'Kitten's Got Claws' softly to herself, stretching out her arms and legs in the hot water, smirking.

Loki watches her. He admires the curve of her throat, the gleam of water along her shoulders. A sense of possessiveness threads through his thoughts and he smiles to himself as he lets one foot hook around her leg under the water. He wants her closer; within his touch, and will let his gaze tell her so. Will his pet understand without having to verbalize it?

So much to learn, he thinks. She is a proud thing, intelligent in her own right, full of opinions and ready to challenge him not only in matters sensual, but on nearly every other topic as well. Loki wonders if she knows what she truly wants in this . . . arrangement of theirs.

He wonders himself. There have been others-not Midgardian-who have caught his fancy and helped him learn the sensual pleasure of command. It's a natural instinct, a basic drive for a Jotunn male such as he. Those in Asgard are stirred only by war and battle; in rutting there is an equality to their pairings that while enjoyable lacks the sweet edge that comes with taking control.

In all his years growing up under Odin Loki thought he was the twisted one, the strange one as he hid his erotic desires and sensual dreams. Only_ now_ does he know his true nature, and the freedom to embrace it is gratifying, particularly with such a fetching pet.

She smirks a little more at Loki's touch. She has a saucy reply lined up, in case it is her humming he's taken issue with: 'What, there's a rule against Midgardian earworms, too? Be grateful it's not 'Gangnam Style', my _Lord_.'

But when she opens her eyes and looks at him, his expression is...many things. Possessiveness, perhaps a touch of unease, but also full of desire...

She wades the short distance over to him, placing both hands lightly on his chest and smiling up at him - he's _tall, especially compared to her _ - "Did you want something?" A brief pause, then she smirks and adds: "My Prince?"

She can't resist touching him as she waits for his answer. There's no rule against _touching_ him that she's aware of. She moves close enough that her body brushes against his, and allows her palms to drift up his shoulders and the sides of his neck, before tracing her fingers along the planes of his cheeks. His eyes close as she does so, and she smirks again. He doesn't hold _all _the power here, his lofty pronouncements to the contrary. _Gotcha!_

Loki savors this moment. All on her own, without direct instruction she has come to him, caressed him. It's clear that his pet truly does care in the gentle way her fingers stroke his skin, and he is well-pleased. Perhaps she will not be adverse to some affection on _his_ part either, so he splays his hands across the small of her back, long palms and fingers easily spanning the back half of her torso. Lightly Loki strokes downward, letting his touch glide over a part of her anatomy recently tormented, but he keeps the pressure soft.

"I hope the pain has faded," he murmurs softly. "You took it very well, especially for a first time. It has been . . . a while and I am not as adept in this dance as I have been." As he speaks Loki finds his cock thickening again, surging hopefully against the sleek feminine thigh insinuating itself between his.

"It's...tolerable," she agrees, leaning into him more, relishing the hot length of him against her. "The, um, _discipline_, wasn't quite what I had fantasized about, but I'm not complaining." She lets her hands fall back to his shoulders, stroking along flexing muscle, then down his arms as far as she can comfortably reach, given his arms are around her. She raises an eyebrow at him. "Shall I tell you what I _had_ thought you might do?" Her thigh rubs against him, just a little.

"You may," Loki agrees, a little guardedly. He's comfortable in the water and his pet feels lovely in his arms, but he isn't sure he wants to hear a critique . . . but how better to learn? How better to _do_ better, he thinks, and draws a deep breath. "Only a fool would turn away from your words, little pet. Proceed."

She shakes her head at the faint uncertainty in his voice. Insecurity? From _him_? "I don't mean it as a critique. I didn't exactly _tell_ you what I wanted, and you're not a mind-reader." She furrows her brow. "_Are_ you?"

He smirks. "Had I the talent, Asgard would have been mine long ago. Alas, no; the reading of thoughts is not among my magic skills." As he speaks, he keeps stroking, enjoying the soft skin and firm muscle of her ass.

Good, because the last thing she needs is the God of Mischief in her _head_. "Good. A woman's got to have some secrets. But there's a few I'm willing to share with you." She stretches up on tiptoes, leaning to his ear as much as possible. "Like, for example, I expected the spanking to start a lot more...gradually. And I really hoped you would, well, touch me more. I mean, I was pretty much 'all hanging out there', right? You think it was an accident I showed up naked from the waist up?" She presses her chest against him harder by way of illustration.

Talking dirty is NOT one of her strong suits. Why is she doing this, again? "I mean, do you have something against _nipples_?" She's blushing, hard, but what the heck - might as well go for broke. She dares to take his arms and place his hands right on her breasts. If that isn't an obvious cue, she doesn't know what is!

He caresses them; his hands warm now from the water, thumbs moving lightly over the nipples. "And is that _all_, my pet?" Loki smiles. "There is always room for improvement, and on a matter this important I can certainly make the effort to find the happy medium for us." As he speaks he begins to circle his thumbs around her nipples. "I too, have certain hopes as well, certain thoughts and expectations on our interludes, but they can wait . . . ."

"Of course," she answers, kissing the side of his neck. "That would be only fair." She leans back, smiling. "I'll bet I can guess, though." Her expression becomes arch as she wraps a hand around his throbbing shaft and strokes it firmly a few times.

His hips hitch against hers, and his breath catches in his throat. Still smiling, she leans into him again and adds: "But we should probably eat something first, shouldn't we, my Lord?"

As quickly as she can, she releases him and backs away, scrabbling up the stone steps leading out of the pool. She makes a grab for the green robe as she hurries by, giggling as she goes. Probably foolish to tease the Mischief God, but...maybe what he's got is _catching_.

He laughs too as he follows her up the stairs. Back in the chamber, he allows the ghostly hands to dry him off, as he leers openly at his pet in her damp green robe. It clings fetchingly to all of her curves, so he chooses not to offer _her_ any help with drying.

He doesn't bother to dress himself either, enjoying her slight discomfort at his nudity as they eat their stew. For what he has planned, they won't need clothing much longer. The very thought of what he will do stiffens him again, and he smirks as his pet pretends to be fascinated instead by her bowl of stew.

She fidgets nervously as she finishes the last few bites. He's been done for awhile - he wolfed the stew down like he hasn't seen a meal in millennia - and she's uncomfortably aware of his gaze, intense, dark, and _dangerous _on her the whole time. It's almost like the person (god) she bathed with in the pool was totally different one from the entity sitting across from her now.

As soon as she finishes, Loki rises lazily and crosses to her, plucking the bowl from her hands and pulling her to her feet.

Wordlessly, he tugs at the bow holding her robe closed, releasing the knot. But he continues, pulling until her robe hangs open, the sash collected in his large hands.

He flashes a feral grin at her that makes her quiver in all the _right _places, even as anxiety starts to curl itself around her spine. "Turn around," he orders, low and smooth.

She's had enough discipline for one day. Taking a deep breath, she obeys, trying not to jump as he slips the robe from her shoulders, letting it fall and pool around her feet. He releases her hair from the pin next, helping it fall in a soft curtain around her face and neck. It's hard not to bolt as he gently wraps the wide linen sash of the robe around her eyes. She can't see, and she's at the mercy of a God of Chaos; it's enough to make her knees shake ever so slightly.

He pushes lightly at her shoulder until she steps forward, towards the bed. She can feel his breath on her shoulder; he must be nearly on top of her, closely shadowing her every step, ravenous predator tracking his prey.

Her knees impact the mattress sooner than she expects and she jolts to a stop, her hands scrabbling to keep her from tumbling onto the bed, and Loki chuckles, the sound a little cruel.

"Lay down, my lovely pet," he says, and again, despite her tension, she obeys. He moves almost soundlessly, her ears straining to track his movements as he circles the bed. Hands grasp her wrists, raising them above her head and hold them down on the pillows...and then her eyes open wide in shock as _another_ pair of hands does the same thing to her ankles, spreading them wide and pinning them in place.

Then Loki climbs up onto the bed, his body sliding against hers like a caress, but the hands still have a firm grip, and she realizes - it's not him holding her down. It's his ghostly servants.

She can feel fur under her back and tender ass, and she can't help wiggling just a bit, enjoying the softness, sandwiched between it and his warmth.

His lips move against her ear. "I have taken to heart what you spoke of to me in the pool," he says, "and I hope you will grant similar attention when I tell you my expectations as well, at a later time. However, it does seem to me that if you are going to demand certain acts, you will need to _earn_ them."

Star bites her lip nervously. "And how might I do that while I am bound like this, my Prince?"

His laugh is soft. "A game, little kitten mine. I will touch your skin with some item or texture, and all you must do is to tell me what it is. Guess correctly, and you will be rewarded with what you crave. Guess incorrectly, and I will have something I crave from _you._"

Her throat is suddenly dry, her body trembles. With need or fear, or both, she can no longer tell where one bleeds into the other.

But she can tell that she doesn't have a choice. "Yes, Loki," she says.

A pleased chuckle in her ear, and then he rolls off her and off the bed. Silence falls, during which she can hear nothing but the faint crackle and pop of the fireplace. She tugs at the hands holding her, twisting her head from side to side as she tries to hear him, but there is nothing.

He makes her _wait_.

When he does touch her, she jerks as if struck by lightning, gasping. She can feel something against her inner left thigh, something very soft. She wiggles as he brushes it against her skin, slowly moving it closer to the heated junction between her legs, and then she realizes it's the same texture she's lying on - fur.

"Fur, my Lord?" she asks hopefully.

He chuckles. "Very good, clever pet. Hence, your _reward_." He lets the fur brush over _her_ fur, the sensation soft and tickling, and she moans when his hands move higher, stroking her stomach and then her stiff nipples with it.

Then the feeling vanishes and he's leaning over her, hard chest pressed down on hers, and his fingers trap her chin as he kisses her urgently. His tongue invades her mouth, taking no prisoners, and she moans again.

His hand pushes on her chin, forcing her head to tilt back, as he presses soft bites along her throat. She fists her hands, panting, feeling her body temperature rising in response. It only increases as he makes his leisurely way to a nipple, though he doesn't release his grip on her chin.

He nips hard, and she cries out, but it's the same tactic as before - pain and then pleasure as he soothes away the ache with lips and tongue. He suckles hard too, then licks around her nipple, then long tongue strokes glide wetly up and down the rest of her breast, and then he starts all over on the other side. Her hips try to rock, to press into him seeking relief, but he doesn't stop working her tender flesh until she is sheened in sweat and begging noises spill from her taut throat. "Such delicious _sounds_ you make, little pet," he croons.

He stops then, removing himself from the bed once more. She tries to catch her breath, to focus on his 'game'.

When he returns to her, she can feel him leaning over her, but there's no contact between them. She feels something against her throat, a fluttering - what _is_ it? Feathers? Leaves? A bird he's conjured?

"Well, pet?" he asks after she takes too long to answer. His voice is nearby, his face is close to hers, is that a clue?

"Are you- tickling me with your hair?" she finally stutters.

He laughs darkly and she knows she's wrong. "No, but a worthy guess. Those were my eyelashes, dear pet. And now, as you have _lost-_"

His hand slips under her head, supporting it, and she feels him shift up onto the bed. Then his length is against her mouth, rigid and throbbing, and she doesn't need any direction to open her lips and kiss it, stroke her tongue along it.

He groans, his fingers tightening slightly on her scalp, and she wishes she could see his expression. She can only focus on feeling, taste, scent and sound - velvet over stone, salty and hot, musk, low growls...he strokes himself along her tongue, and she can feel him _watching_ everything she does to him.

After a short time he stiffens under her teeth, but then he draws himself out of her, fingers stroking down her hair. "One more round, little kitten?"

She licks his salt from her lips and nods. "Yes, my Lord."

There's the expected pause and silence, and then he's back. This time he touches her arm, drawing a smooth, slick material down the sensitive inside, trailing towards her breasts. Soft, cool...but the scent gives it away. "Leather," she says with certainty.

"You've done well," he compliments her. "I shan't make you wait any longer-"

She feels him settle between her spread thighs. The ghostly hands shift, sliding up her legs and pressing her knees wider apart, then holding her immobile, and Star tries to stop a groan of anticipation.

She gasps, hips trying to buck when his hot tongue delves deep inside her. It's impossible to stay still or silent as he teases unmercifully, tracing his tongue along each edge, sweeping around and against her tenderest spot, fingers sinking inside her to discover just which places will win the greatest reaction from her.

He's too skilled at this, dragging her close to completion almost before she wants him to, but just as her muscles tighten, just as the pleasure starts to dance over the edge into excruciating, he..._stops_.

She bites her lip. Oh God, he can't- Please- "Loki," she chokes, "Please, don't _stop_-"

He doesn't answer her, at least not with words. The hands release their grip just long enough for Loki to roll her over and pull her to her hands and knees, then they pin her in place again.

She lets out a loud cry and arches back into him as he pushes himself slowly into her. She can practically feel every vein on his shaft rubbing along her walls at each slow retreat and advance. Every time he fills her, he hits just the right spots inside and out.

But even he becomes impatient before long, his fingers almost bruising her hips when he finally decides to abandon this sweet torture and _take_ her. He slams into her over and over, so hard she'll wonder afterwards how her bones are still whole, and she can somehow feel it when he's about to spill himself, he's so hard and heated inside her-

Her climax is there, waiting to engulf her- just another thrust, and now there is his hand, reaching around her hip to press her clit in _just_ the right way-

White light fills her mind, her body convulsing around him, and distantly she can hear his loud cry of satisfaction as he spends himself inside her, their bodies seeming to fuse into one being, shuddering, collapsing, entwining...

-oo00oo-

Later, much later, Loki opens his eyes to find his pet curled to his side, one slender leg wrapped over his in unconscious possession. Moved, he smiles in the dark, feeling quiet pride in her. She is a spirited female, complicated and strong, feminine to the core and worthy of his interest. This night has been sweetly fiery, (and Loki hopes) a lovely beginning to something . . . special.

But now . . . Now it is time to return her to her Midgardian surroundings, back to her world. It sends a pang of loneliness through him, and Loki waits a while, watching her sleep so innocently and deeply before speaking in a low whisper.

"When you awake you shall be returned, with only a few moments of time missing, little kitten. You shall keep your memories of tonight, as shall I."

She stirs restlessly, a small frown flickering across her face, and Loki blows a soft breath across her cheek. Instantly she settles down as he speaks again. "The next time I shall come to _you_, and we shall see to it that you are bedecked as a pet _should_ be, hmmm? In the interim, rest, and await me, little hell-cat."

Loki ever so lightly runs his tongue along her lips, closing his eyes and allowing the slow press of old magic flare around them and encompass Star. She shimmers like her namesake and fades away, leaving behind warmth and perfume lingering on the bed.

Loki breathes in deeply and rises, his expression bleak; there will be no rest or comfort now that she is gone, and he has enemies to deal with.

Still . . . he permits himself a smirk as he picks up the linen belt to the robe. There is the next time to look forward to-


	2. Chapter 2

**Star-Crossed (2/?)**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: June 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Crack!fic; Loki takes his 'pet' shopping.**

**Disclaimer: Loki still owns us. Yep.**

**Authors' Note: As with the first chapter, Starhawk wrote the OC's POV, and Cincoflex wrote Loki's.**

Nearly three weeks go by, and she tries not to chafe about them. Loki had said to expect this, hadn't he? But it doesn't make it easier.

_Better start the pie,_ she reminds herself one Saturday afternoon. Her husband is napping, her child is napping, her Department Meeting and Potluck is next week, and she's on dessert detail.

She starts mixing the dough for the crust, shaking out her hand as it tries to cramp around the pastry blender - God, she HATES this part of baking - when there's a sudden _change_ in the air. As if it has become charged with electricity. The hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she freezes.

The air folds open like a door, and Loki steps through it, grinning at her. He's dressed like a businessman; three-piece black suit, a black, green and white scarf...and he's holding a staff topped with a bright blue gem.

She blushes, remembering the games he promised to play with that gem...on _her_.

Then sanity comes back. "Loki!" she hisses, "My family!" She gestures frantically towards the bedroom area of the condo. He promised to come to her, yes, but she never expected he would show up in the middle of the day in her goddamned living room!

He glances in direction she indicated, unconcerned. "Be at ease, they will not wake."

She bites her lip, not sure how she feels about him using magic on her family. "Um, OK." She stares into her mixing bowl for a second, wondering what to say to him. "I missed you," she settles on.

"As did I, you," he answers, coming into the kitchen and raising her chin with his hand. The kiss is hot, deep, and utterly possessive, not that she minds.

"Come with me, now," he says softly, but there is no mistaking the tone of command.

She wants to, really really wants to, but- "Loki, I _can't_. I have things to do-"

His eyes darken angrily, long fingers digging slightly into her skin. "You dare refuse _me_?"

Her eyes flash as her own anger rises to meet his. "Screw _you_. You keep giving me that line about having your own fish to fry, and that I have to wait until you have a chance to see me...but_ I _don't get the same consideration?" She bats his hand away, totally irritated with him, and then puts her hands on her hips and _glowers_.

Her tension eases when he laughs, full and deep. "As always, you show your claws, kitten mine. But did you not notice last time, for all the hours we spent entwined, only mere seconds passed here in your mortal world? Believe that we will have plenty of time for what I have planned, and you will also have the leisure to make..." He pauses, looking curiously into the bowl.

"Apple pie, my specialty," she informs him. She bites her lip, thinking. "OK, fine. I'll make you a deal. If you get me back here around pretty much _this_ moment in time, and I manage to bake the pie without _any_ other interruptions...you can have the first piece. Do we have a deal?"

He arches an eyebrow at her, and the look might be called imperious if there wasn't a dimple deepening in his cheek. "The first piece. I rather _like_ the sound of that," Loki purrs. "Yes, I agree to your bargain, little Puss. Now ready yourself; we have finery to acquire."

"Finery?"

"Indeed. As both my pet and plaything, you need to be showcased; bedecked," Loki murmurs, plucking the pastry blender from her hand and dropping it into the bowl. "Dressed to be _un_dressed, and displayed for my personal pleasures. Too many of your finer features are hidden from me even now."

She glances down at her clothing to hide her discomfort - a tight black tee-shirt (with Smurfette, and the words 'Heart-breaker' written on it) and blue jeans - she's never been all that comfortable getting compliments, especially about her appearance._ 'Showcased'? 'Displayed'? Yeah, right. Next comes an invitation from Victoria's Secret to model for them. _"Uhhhh, OK. If you say so," she says doubtfully. Nervously, she goes to the sink to rinse the flour from her hands. "And here I thought you wanted me for my _mind_," she quips half-heartedly.

"Your mind has its charms," Loki replies silkily. "I do not bed fools or the dull-witted. It takes intelligence to put pleasure through its paces. And while your mode of dress might suit for this . . . creation of apple pie, it is too plebian for what I have in mind. Choose something else, or I will dress you myself."

He looks particularly mischievous; always a dangerous sign.

No way she's leaving him to decide that, he'll probably make her walk the sidewalks dressed only in a bra and panties (if_ that_). "OK, OK, hold your horses." As quietly as she can, she sneaks into the bedroom and then the walk-in closet. Maybe hubby won't wake, thanks to Loki's spell, but she doesn't want to take any chances.

What to wear? Her LBD? A sundress? Finally she settles on a pink dress with spaghetti straps and an asymmetrical hemline that ends at her knees in front. It's got a funky paisley pattern and edging in gold tones; hopefully it's enough on the border of fancy/ casual for whatever evil plan Loki has.

Again, she sneaks back out of the bedroom and back to the living room. "Does this meet with your approval, my Lord?" she asks, tipping him a little curtsey.

He circles around her, scrutinizing his pet from the top of her head down to her feet, his gaze drinking her in thoroughly before giving a little purr under his breath and managing a lopsided smirk. "Yes. Yes, that will do for the moment. I hope it's simple to remove."

Before she has time to grasp that, Loki steps behind her, wrapping his arms around her gently, her back against his chest as he holds the staff against her stomach, like a safety bar on a rollercoaster.

"Now, I believe there is an establishment that will well serve my-_our_-purposes," he murmurs.

They shimmer and blink out, leaving behind the barely-begun pie on the counter.

-oo00oo-

Très Méchante is an exclusive shop at the far end of the mall. Only a few select customers even know where it is, and those who do tend not to share the information. The wrought-iron doors and tinted glass panels hint at luxuriousness, as do the potted palms on either side.

It's just a casual stroll away, but Loki makes it clear that those very doors are their intended destination.

"'Très Méchante'?" she asks. For once, she's kind of sorry she speaks French. "Um, Loki, what kind of store is _that_?"

Maybe going on a shopping trip with the God of Mischief isn't such a good idea. Not that he's going to give her any choice. She tries to slow her walk, slow _them_ down, just a little. Buy some time to figure out what the hell is in store for her. So to speak.

Loki is looking at two young girls walking by; he makes a soft growl and they both burst into nervous giggles, eyes wide and slightly awestruck. He gives them a wink and turns to answer his pet. "Poor things. So inexperienced. As for our destination, well-I do believe the name says it all."

"It doesn't say _anything_! 'Very Mean'...um, OK? That's really clear, suuuure." She bites her lip and tries to stop dead on the sidewalk.

He leans in and whispers. "Very Naughty," Loki corrects her. "At least, that is _their_ specific meaning. I happen to know that you _like_ to be very naughty."

She can't help smirking at that. "Sometimes," she agrees coyly. "I could say the same of you as well, though. Are we going to be shopping for you too, my Prince?" She looks up at him from under her eyelashes.

He very nearly preens at her words, but catches himself and clears his throat. "Possibly. My interest lies in procuring more of the items similar to the one you wore last time," Loki murmurs. "You would do such apparel proud."

A handsome young man walking by gives her a stare, and Loki's eyes narrow. He begins to raise his arm-

"Whoa, down boy," She says, grabbing his elbow. "C'mon Loki, you were looking at those girls. Now you're gonna zap some poor schmoe for doing the same thing to me?" she whispers. "Inconsistent, much?"

"Capricious _god_ here," he says sounding like Captain Jack Sparrow for a moment, then turns her back towards the distant doors. "The girls merely wondered about me, just as they did about you. _That_ one, though-" Loki bares his teeth for a moment, "certainly had more than curiosity on his mind, and none of it worth noting. I will let him live . . . if I must."

"Please do," she says encouragingly, tugging him forward towards the doors. As nervous as she is about going to this place, whatever it is, it has to be better than watching him blast someone to smithereens in the middle of the mall!

They stroll forward, approaching the doors and when they reach them, Loki raises the staff – which has morphed into a less threatening 'cane' form - and raps once on the handle. The doors open and an elegant man in a three-piece suit looks out towards them and nods. He's lean and handsome in an aristocratic way, with a goatee and bald head, green eyes behind half-moon glasses. "Welcome, sir," he intones. "Do you have an appointment with us?"

"Oh yes," Loki replies in a silky tone. "That we most definitely _do_."

An _appointment?_ OK, this is officially the WEIRDEST shop she has ever been to. Now she's even more nervous.

The inside of the place looks more like a fancy living room with exquisite velvet furniture and walls of mirrors and ornate wallpaper in grey and silver. There are little alcoves everywhere and the mannequins are wearing lingerie that would make anyone from Victoria's Secret weep with envy. Loki smiles and steers them inside.

"I am Maximilian, your attendant," the man murmurs. "And is this your . . . consort? May I congratulate you on a beautiful woman, sir?"

She can feel herself turning bright red. This seems to be the day for people to comment on her appearance. "Thanks, you're no slouch yourself, Max," she can't help muttering, though she keeps her eyes on the floor. She's sure Loki is doing his pleased _smirk_, and seeing it just now will probably turn her even redder.

"She's spirited," Loki announces, "and opinionated."

"Then you are doubly fortunate, sir. If you would care to follow me into the viewing room?"

The viewing room is more intimate and cozy, with a chaise lounge and a few classical chairs in dove-grey velvet. There is a dais against one wall, surrounded by full-length mirrors and fresh-cut flowers in crystal vases.

_Jesus H. Christ,_ she looks around. What the hell _is_ this place? "You have...interesting taste in lingerie stores," she says in a low voice to Loki.

He moves close and breathes lightly on the side of her throat as he whispers. "Do you like it? It's not for everyone, but then again, you and I, we're not like everyone either. It took me a while to find this place, but I think it will have exactly what we're looking for, my Star."

She shivers at the coolness of his breath and closes her eyes. _I am so going to regret this, I just know it,_ she thinks. But she only says: "If it meets with your approval, then of course I like it. What do you want me to do?"

Loki slides his hands up the sides of her shoulders, fingers catching in the spaghetti straps. He flicks them off her shoulders, his touch slow. "Undress, of course. How else are you to try on and model for me?"

She presses her hands to the top of the dress. "Uh, fine, but sorry, I don't undress in front of just anyone." She indicates Max with a sharp movement of her head. "No offense. Point me to a changing room, garçon."

Max gives a small bow. "I am not permitted to stay, much to my regret. However, the catalog is here-" He waves at one of the mirrors, which is actually a computer screen showing a vast array of selections on display, "-and should you require any further assistance or advice, you have but to ring. I leave you to your selections and have a lovely afternoon."

She lets out a relieved sigh after Max leaves. "OK, explain this to me again, because apparently I'm a little _slow_ - random guy stares on the street and you're ready to turn him into cat food, but you have no problem dropping my dress in front of a random dude in a lingerie store. Is this some Asgardian social norm I'm not aware of?"

"Max is . . . unique," Loki smirks. "And well-versed in consorts, pets and playthings. There _are_ other people who understand the ways of gods and mortals, masters and servants, the ways of you and I, little Puss. This cannot be news to you."

Loki drops himself in a lazy slouch in a chair, cane resting against it, and watches her. "Show me how _much_ you have missed me. I want to see."

Had they still been in his private magical retreat, she would have done just that...maybe even have put on a little 'show' for him. But in an unfamiliar, somewhat public setting like this? She raises an eyebrow at him. "Um, _what_? You want me to just strip down right here? I don't think so. Give me something to change into-" she motions towards the catalog, "-and I'm happy to oblige you. That is, unless..." she smiles lasciviously at Loki and walks over to stand in front of him. "..._I'm_ not the only one naked." She trails her fingers down his tie, tugging lightly on it, and then starts to pull his scarf from around his neck-

He catches her small wrists and holds them for a second, then brings one up to his lips, tongue flicking along the sensitive pulse point. "Ah, well there are a great many things to wear, and just so we have some privacy-" Loki lets go of her other wrist and snaps his fingers. The door to the viewing room slides shut and the heavy 'click' of a lock echoes faintly.

Loki arches an eyebrow at her and gazes meaningfully at the spaghetti straps.

She backs up, eyes narrowed as she reconsiders. He _did_ lock them in. She feels an abrupt need for her own particular brand of mischief.

"Privacy is all I required, my Lord." She turns her back to him and unzips the pink dress as slowly as she can. Then she turns to face him, sweeping the straps aside and letting the dress slide down, falling around her strappy black sandals. She's left with only those, a lacy black bra, and matching panties.

Does she dare to take the next step? She's fantasized about doing so a couple times, but... she steps out of the dress, walking slowly backwards until she can sit on the chaise lounge.

She gives Loki her best sultry smile as she toes off her sandals, then she lays down on the chaise, closes her eyes and lets the fingers of one hand trace down her cheek, along her throat and collarbone, down to the neckline of her strapless bra...

She licks her lips as she remembers what it had felt like, to be half-naked across his lap as he'd spanked her, to be bound and blindfolded and teased. She cracks one eye open and smiles at Loki. "Are you sure you don't want to take your clothes off too?" she purrs. "That suit is gorgeous, but your _birthday _suit puts it to shame." As she speaks, she lets the fingertips of her hand dip just below the top edge of one cup of her bra.

Loki smiles briefly and leans back, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepling his hands as he watches her over the top of them. He says nothing, but there is a faint ruby glow deep in his eyes. He waits, perfectly still, gaze still on her, lingering as warm as a caress.

It's his challenge back to her, his way of upping the ante and making it clear if she wants a response then his little pet is going to have to try a_ bit_ more. Gods are infuriating that way; it's what makes them dangerous lovers.

"Suit yourself," she shrugs, smirking over at him. She closes her eyes again and wiggles down a little on the chaise, spreading herself out on the soft velvety surface. Taking a deep breath, she pushes her hand a little further down, brushing her fingertips lightly across her firming nipple. She lets her other hand caress its way down the centre of her bra, her ribs and stomach, then slips it underneath the waistband of her underwear.

Part of her can't _believe _she's actually doing this, but... what's the harm?

She lets her first hand curl around her breast, squeezing the nipple gently, and she dares to peek over at Loki again as her other hand makes small circles in the curls between her legs.

Loki makes a sound, a soft little growl barely audible in the stillness of the room. Clearly his pet is more than ready to call his bluff, and in such a blatant way. It's difficult not to simply stride over and loom, lean over her petite form and nip her collarbones.

Difficult but not impossible, since what she's doing is so . . . _so_ . . . fascinating. So decadently intimate. Loki is torn between watching and taking, but he doesn't want this to end too soon, and his pet does seem to be enjoying herself, even if her teasing is fiercely arousing. He settles for dropping his hands from their steepled position and gripping the chair arms all the better to control himself.

She allows herself to wink at him, enjoying his obviously white-knuckled discomfort. Who's got the power _now_?

She squeezes her nipple again, reaching down further under her panties until she can trail her fingers through the slickness there, bringing them back up to circle slowly around her most sensitive spot. She allows a soft gasp to escape her lips, and shifts on the chaise, bucking her hips a little towards her fingers, bending one knee and propping her foot on the chaise to open herself just a little more.

She almost pities Loki. He can't actually _see_ anything, can he? Well, if he wants the barrier of her clothes out of the way, let _him_ do something about it.

It i_s_ what he asked for; _more_ than what he expected, actually. One of the amusing aspects of his pet is her coyness at times-but at the moment she's anything BUT. It's becoming more frustrating by the moment, particularly since she's enjoying herself and as for himself . . .

Well he is and isn't. Watching her is thrilling. Females are so very different when it comes to solitary pleasure. More languid, more willing to draw matters out instead of rushing to fountain, as males do. If only he could _see_-

As deliberately as he can, Loki reaches for his walking stick, gripping it for a moment and letting it shift to its familiar, deadly staff form. Carefully he extends it, letting the hook point catch the lace of his pet's panties. A tug and the fabric rips, exposing one sleek hipbone as the tatters drop against the velvet of the chaise lounge.

_Much better_, he decides, and leans forward for a closer look.

She gapes at the change in the cane, then gasps as he wrecks her underwear. "Hey! I liked those." She frowns darkly at him, though it's all an act. Mostly. "I hope you plan to replace them, my Prince."

"Not at the moment," he replies in a low tone full of lust. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, and your scent is . . . enthralling."

Carefully Loki shifts from the chair and moves towards her, kneeling beside the chaise and bending to brush his lips ever so lightly against hers. "_Do_ keep going," he whispers.

She has to swallow around a sudden lump in her throat. He's too close, now he _will_ see everything, and that makes her nervous again. He'll probably destroy the bra too at any moment.

Look _at him_, she coaches herself. _He's loving this. What are you so afraid of? _She breathes deeply again, slides her hand back between her legs. She can feel the blood and heat rushing to her cheeks and chest, his gaze seeming to burn her flesh as he watches her fingers press into herself, then slip back up and around her nub again. She strokes herself slowly, around and around, fixing her gaze now on the bulge in his dress pants.

She presses a little harder, relishing the sensation, and squeezes her nipple, closing her eyes and arching herself against her own hands.

It's magnificent, and Loki kisses her, tongue sliding along the seam of her lips, begging admission. He can hear her pulse jump, can feel her body torquing with arousal now, so near and so warm. Loki curses himself as one greedy hand slides along his pet's thigh, caressing it firmly. Gods he wants her to keep going, to_ taste_ her as she comes . . .

Eyes still closed, she jumps slightly when he touches her, but she grins and opens her lips under his. _Once again.._.._gotcha_! she thinks. She lets her tongue slip over and tangle around his, her hand leaving her folds to caress the back of his hand on her thigh. An evil impulse inspires her to wrap her hand around his, trying to guide it between her legs. He never said anything about not _helping_, did he?

Loki smiles against his pet's mouth, tasting her laughing moan. He allows her to guide his hand to the slick little garden between her thighs, kissing her more deeply as he does so. It's fascinating to feel her fingers move his to the exact place she wants to be touched, to allow her to use him for her own gratification. Her cleft is more than slick and hot to the touch, the bud of her pleasure as stiff as her nipples. Loki sucks on her tongue, feeling himself throb hard.

She moans loudly as his teeth scrape lightly against her tongue. She presses his hand harder against her, circling and teasing, then decides she needs to come, _now_. She guides his fingers to her entrance instead, wordlessly urging him to slip two fingers into her, then brings her hand back to her nub, massaging it hard. Her hips rise and fall against his penetrating fingers, she hopes he'll get the hint. Her other hand tugs the bra cup down at last, freeing her nipple so she can press it to Loki's chest, rub it against the slightly rough texture of his suit.

She needs more air, she breaks their kiss so she can let her head fall back against the chaise, closing her eyes again so she can focus on her body and her pleasure.

Loki grinds his teeth and concentrates, thrusting his fingers into her welcoming slickness, stroking to match his pet's own caresses. Watching her is intoxicating, pinning her on the chaise lounge makes him breathe all the harder. With his free hand he pinches one of her nipples, rolling it firmly between his fingers, tweaking it just as she begins to spasm a few moments later. Loki licks a long wet stripe along her arched throat, letting his teeth graze her damp skin, and feels very much like the raw, wild god he is.

Heat sears through her, burns her away until there's nothing left, leaving her gasping and limp on the chaise, shuddering with the occasional sweet aftershock. She laughs a little shyly and tugs at Loki's tie. "Well, that was...a new experience for me. Seems you have that effect on me, Loki. Did you put me under some kind of spell?"

He braces a hand above her shoulder and lightly nips her nose before speaking. "Rather the _opposite_, darling minx. That was lovely and painfully arousing. I will want something like that again at some point."

"'Painfully arousing'? Poor baby. I can help with that, if you want." She grins and slides a hand along the straining ridge under his pants, craning her neck up to kiss him again.

He groans, hips rocking forward against her touch, but with a sigh Loki forces himself back and stands, looking slightly grim. "We were _supposed_ to be . . . shopping, as you call it. If I give in to you here and now I suspect we won't spend _any_ time making selections. I can hold off on my own pleasure for a short while, and I do mean to see you in beautiful things, pet. Particularly with that rosy flush to your skin."

"As my Lord wishes," she answers obediently, though she can't seem to stop a smug little smirk. The panties are a lost cause either way so she strips them off and drops them next to her dress, then peels off the bra to follow. "Is there a place for me to wash up? I don't want to, um, stain any of your 'selections', especially if they don't fit me and we can't take them. I'm kind of a non-typical size."

Loki chuckles and waves a hand towards one corner of the room. Textured crystal walls slide out and curve to form an alcove complete with shower, bidet and toilet. He helps his pet up and kisses her, then turns to the dais to inspect the computer screen there.

"They are _very_ service-oriented here," he calls over his shoulder. "One of the best on your little planet."

"Now Loki, size doesn't matter," she retorts as she goes to clean up. Once done, she wanders over to look at the catalog too. "Whoa..." she breathes.

Loki shifts his gaze to her nudity and makes a little sound deep in his throat, then touches the screen on a particular item-a merry widow corset in black and silver.

"And here I thought you'd go for things in green, gold and black only," she muses out loud. "I've been told I look good in red, if you're open to suggestions."

"Mmmm. Red, yes," he murmurs, tapping the screen again and from the wall next to the mirrors a panel slides open to reveal the corset and panties on a padded silk hanger. Loki plucks them off and examines them intently for a moment. "To me, pet-let us see you in _this_."

She goes right up to Loki, making sure to rub up against him. He's still _very_ aroused. "Hmm, maybe we should also look for a posing pouch for _you_? I'm thinking black leather, with a snake on it." She winks up at him slyly.

"I doubt you could find one large enough," he tells her with mock-innocence, and then slides his large hands down her ass, pinching the left cheek, making her gasp and jump. "As you recall I have . . . substantial impact. Does my choice bore you? Are you not interested in seeing yourself in my gifts?"

Loki murmurs this in a tone that pretends to be hurt, but his eyes glitter and against her thigh she feels him-the very insistent part of him-throb. His hair is longer, giving him an elegant fae look in his suit.

"I never said that. I was just trying to encourage you to give _me_ some eye-candy, too." She shrugs and plucks the items out of his hands, walks over to sit in a nearby chair, and slips the corset on, then the panties. They actually fit pretty well, which is a pleasant surprise. She raises an eyebrow at Loki again. "I suppose you want me to go over there?" She motions towards the dais. "Geez, all it's missing is a stripper pole," she mutters to herself.

Loki sits again, leaning back, long, lean legs splayed. He runs his hands down his thighs, the gesture lingering. "If you want something, you must ask for it," he rumbles. "Nicely."

From this position the heavy ridge of his shaft straining his trousers is prominent and unmissable, as is the heavy-lidded look he gives her. "Red becomes you, my sweet."

"Glad you think so, my Prince." She puts her sandals back on, then deliberately doing her best sashay, she walks over to the dais and steps onto it, looking at herself from all angles. She sticks out her hip a little, then her chest. She turns to study herself from the back, pretending not to notice Loki's smoldering gaze. The thong underwear frames her...assets fairly nicely, too. Not bad, not bad at all. "And no, the stripper pole thing wasn't a _request_- not unless you think the sight of me clumsily falling on my ass would be hot. If so, then by all means, m'lord." She meets his eyes and dips him a somewhat sarcastic little curtsey.

"I could show you how," he chuckles throatily, and strokes his thigh again, hand gliding across the ridge there. "Come here, pretty toy; I want a closer look."

She raises both eyebrows this time. "You know how to use a stripp- never mind, I don't think I want to know." Smirking, she steps down off the dais and approaches him, though she slows noticeably as she nears him. "My, what big eyes you have," she can't resist commenting, her nerves tingling a warning. He does remind her of a wolf, tensed and ready to pounce and _devour_.

"All the better," he replies, showing that he does understand the reference. "And I have danced _many_ a time, little puss, both in this form _and_ my she-form. Closer . . . will I bite? You won't know unless you take a chance now, will you?" his eyes are half-closed now, and the hand on his thigh flexes a bit.

"'She-form'? Hm. I probably shouldn't tell you that I've often fantasized about what it might be like to have sex with a woman," she admits, though she hangs back, circling, keeping a couple paces back from him. "Maybe I don't intend to come closer. Maybe, if you want me, you'll have to come _get_ me." She sidles back another few steps.

Loki arches an eyebrow. "I've _brought_ you here, helped to _give_ you an orgasm and now intend on _buying_ you many pretty clothes. Perhaps you might want to consider that part of _my_ pleasure comes from being shown a little _gratitude_, luscious one. At the moment I want you _on_ your knees, waiting obediently."

He says it in that soft tone that sounds reasonable, even as Loki purses his mouth, adding, "Turnabout _is_ fair play since the sight of you is driving me mad."

"Fuck, now we've apparently gotten to the part where I get nervous and say or do something to piss you off. And things were going so well up til now," she mutters. Steeling herself, she walks right up to his chair and kneels down beside it, keeping her eyes on his shoes. She wishes she could reverse time back to a few seconds ago, when he asked her if she wanted to 'take a chance'. She _should_ have approached him then. Things would have (hopefully) stayed playful, instead of...this. Where her heart starts pounding and her palms start to sweat, and it's because of anxiety.

Loki chuckles. "I meant on your knees in_ front _of me. Have I frightened you so much that you can't see my desire for you?" His hand slips down the length of his leg to his knee and he shoots her a sidelong glance. "No sulking; just do it now, please."

She made a deal with herself over the last couple weeks that she wants to give in, to try to enjoy this, not _fight_ it - not like during the spanking - so as soon as she is between his long legs, she gets up off her knees, sliding up the length of his body until their faces are level. "If you want to bite me, then do it, Loki. I am yours." She turns her head to the side, offering up her throat and neck, even as she slips a hand along the throbbing curved shape under his pants and pops the button. She holds her breath and tries not to tremble too noticeably.

He gives a pleasured sigh, and lets his face brush alongside her cheek, tongue leaving a wet trail down the side of her throat, pausing just at the most ticklish, tender point on it. Loki's words are muffled against her skin even as one hand slides down the front of the corset to skim over one of her nipples. "Surrender, so sweetly _given_; what male could resist you, my delicious Star?"

The nip is small and sharp; not enough to break the skin, but Loki feels a little jolt run through her, and he kisses the spot. His pet's hands are cupping around him, her fingers warm and teasing.

He adores this.

She is trembling, and Loki knows part of it is sheer animal lust, desire banked by her earlier orgasm but not quite satisfied. The other part is her inner conflict, the battle between her own strong will and personality. His pet is no meek little plaything, no vapid fool, and Loki admits to himself that much of her charm lies right there. She is a worthy choice: sensual, forthright, willing to play with him even when she cannot know what will happen next.

She makes him work for what he wants, and _that_ makes the playing worthwhile.

"Do you know how beautiful you are? How much your touch pleases me?" he sighs, hips rocking forward now.

"You flatter me, Lord," she smiles a little, relieved, stroking his shaft firmly with both hands. She goes back down on her knees, but winces when the left one gives a warning twinge. "Forgive me, my Prince, but I have a history of knee problems-" As quickly as she can, she rises and snags a pillow from one of the chairs, then sinks down onto it in front of him. Better.

Hands cupping him once more, she presses her lips to the pulsing veins on the underside of his length, then traces them languidly with her tongue, stopping to lap at the sensitive spot just beneath the head and looking up at him as she does so.

Loki closes his eyes, savoring the sensations surging through him, feeling the wave of heat flaring in irresistible waves. His pet, _his _pet tending to him this way. Lovely, talented . . . He bites his lower lip, teeth bearing down hard as her tongue dances slyly along his aching shaft. "Oh you _are_ a wicked little thing, aren't you?"

She can't help a snort of laughter. "If you'll pardon my saying so, I don't think you have any idea _how_ wicked, my Lord." She punctuates that by taking him as deep in her mouth as she can comfortably manage.

Loki grunts, long fingers digging into the arms of the chair in an effort to fight back the fresh wave of lust. The sight of his pet between his thighs is unbearably erotic and he doubts his own ability to hold off the orgasm relentlessly building behind his balls. It's been too long and every instinct he has is urging him to come, but this _exquisite_ moment of her power over his pleasure is thrilling.

"Careful," he gasps, dropping his head back to expose his throat over the knot of his tie. "I'm very close-"

She lets him slip out of her mouth. "Good," she says with a laugh. And then she swallows him whole again, letting her teeth scrape against him, her tongue caress him, fingernails tracing lightly over his balls—

The shudders grow, and Loki rocks his hips, the thrusts rolling up as he slides his fingers through Star's hair, gripping gently, letting the inevitable wave of raw pleasure surge through him. Thickly, he comes, groaning, his breath uneven as he does so. The sweet, sweet intensity leaves him slumped, his grip on his pet's tresses turning to a limp caress through the curls.

He opens his eyes and looks at her. "Come here," Loki rasps, reaching to cup her chin and kiss her, his tongue sweeping through her mouth to taste himself there.

It's a familiar taste, although Loki would never admit that, and against his pet's mouth it is exotic and naughty and perfect. He nips at her lip, licks the corners and laughs in sheer pleasure.

She matches him kiss for kiss, savoring the salted aftertaste of him, and curls her fingers in his dark mane. These small moments of affection from him still catch her off-guard, but that doesn't make them unwanted.

In fact, she decides to take full advantage- she curls her arms around him and nuzzles into his neck, breathes him in. She doesn't think he's wearing cologne, but his scent is still...interesting. Human and yet not, if she had to describe it; musk and spice, and something else she can't name. She sighs and tucks her head under his chin, relaxing against him.

Their time together here feels far from over, and that's fine with her. She's sated and yet still _hungry _for more from him, and she waits patiently to see where he will lead her next.

Loki zips himself up and holds her in his lap, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the warmth of his pet in his arms. She's a perfect fit, and cuddling her feels wonderful, particularly in this moment. Lightly Loki nuzzles her hair, whispering, "You please me, little one. For that you must have a gift. A special gift."

She makes a sound-something between a snort and a sigh-but he shifts her so they are both looking at the screen in the mirror. The catalog flicks by a few pages and Loki stops at one outfit, considering it for a moment. It's lacy and body-hugging, but he isn't sure he wants that much of his lovely pet covered . . .from chest to toes? Hmmm.

"Oooh, that one's pretty," she comments. "Although," she adds dryly, "something tells me it won't last long in our...collection." Given what he did to her panties earlier, it's easy to imagine him tying her down (for _safety_, of course) and oh so slowly and carefully slicing this outfit at strategic points with his staff to get access to her flesh, though the idea is not unappealing. In fact, the imagery makes her shiver delightedly.

"I am not _always_ destructive," Loki chides. "Sometimes will I prefer slowly disrobing you with suitable distractions between layers. Nevertheless, we shall add it to our choices. I wonder if any have cuffs? Pets do need to be leashed, and . . . restrained."

Absently he runs a hand along the inside of her thigh, fingers lightly drumming there.

"Mmmm, talk dirty to me, my Lord," she purrs. She makes sure to wriggle her hips against him, as 'encouragement'. Then, on second thought- "On the restraints, that is. Being _leashed_? I'm not sure about that one." But then she reminds herself that she had planned to at least _try_ the things that make her uneasy. So she adds: "If you insist on a leash, I promise to try it at least once, but...I don't make any guarantees that I'll come to _love_ it." Collaring, on the other hand...

"_I_ have been cuffed and muzzled before," Loki offers absently. "More times than many, and it does intensify the emotions, particularly when combined with a touch of fear. I have even been . . ." he pauses and looks down, "a plaything myself."

She blinks in surprise. "You, a switch? Huh. Well, I've been known to domme the occasional partner, so..." She trails light fingernails down the side of his neck. "If you please me, and if you _ask nicely_," she says, deliberately echoing his earlier statement, "I'm sure I could be convinced to cuff and muzzle you, if that's something you would enjoy. Perhaps we should get a collar for you for that purpose, while we're here?" She grins impishly at him.

Loki's gaze is guarded, but his dimples deepen as he gives a small smirk. "You first," he counters. "I have unfinished business with you before I give _myself_ over to your dainty paws, kitten mine. Something in emeralds for you, and a little silver bell, perhaps." He's teasing now, wondering if she will give that adorable indignant look that makes him want to pounce.

_If she is the kitten, then I am the panther_, Loki thinks, and motions to scroll through the screen once more, making three other selections before the images change to . . . toys and devices.

"A _bell_? Yeah right, like I could ever sneak up on yo-" Words fail her as the screen changes to various toys. "Uh-oh, I think I'm beginning to suspect what you mean by 'unfinished business'." She swallows audibly.

Loki takes one of her unresisting hands and licks her palm, letting his tongue run to her wrist. "Sensitivity is the mother of pleasure. I can tell a few of those excite you, but I want you to tell me _which_ ones, and _how_ you want me to use them on you." It's a good request, he feels. She's exposing herself to him even now, in delicious ways.

She can feel her skin heating in a blush already. "I'll tell you, my Lord...if you tell me first _who_ made a 'plaything' out of you. Call it sizing up my competition."

Loki is surprised, but gives a shrug. "Angrboða, or She Who Brings Grief, as she is sometimes known. I contested her for a gem and she ensorcelled me for a time, making me her captive and training me for her pleasure. Every night for a year I was hers to command, and learned _much_ about my own needs and desires. When the calendar came around again to the day of our first challenge she named her price for my freedom."

"Which was?" She continues gently stroking his neck and throat. His Adam's apple bobs as her fingers brush across it.

"My seed," he murmurs. "Which she kept and used to bear my children. Lust, anger, and pride, personified I am told. Told, because I have not been permitted to know them. Now I do not permit my seed to take root, and keep the life force from it for safety's sake. The pleasure of mating is still there, as is the drive of orgasm, but what is spent is but honey."

_Clearly I need to brush up on my Norse Mythology. Marvel canon is not cutting it, _she thinks. She puts her arms around him again. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how painful it must be, to not know your kids," she whispers low against his chest. "If I wasn't allowed to see or get to know my daughter..." she hugs him tighter.

He hugs her back for a moment, and smiles crookedly. "You are fortunate, since she was conceived in love and not by trickery. I do not begrudge the bargain I made; in the end _I_ was the wiser and my children have their own destinies to follow. And those many nights have given me a chance to understand what it is to yearn for . . . danger. To enjoy an edge on desire. To exult in a little ruthlessness."

Loki slides a hand along the back of her skull and grips her hair, tugging it lightly, forcing her head back and up, looking into her face. "Not enough to hurt, but enough to_ hold_ you. It thrills you, pet of mine, to know I _will_ do this." He kisses her, tongue snaking between her parted lips in a quick swipe before he pulls back and smiles. "As I said, you first. A circle of stones for that pretty throat of yours? A heavy reminder that you are mine?"

"I am yours," she repeats, half-smiling. "And you already know how much I want to wear your collar. But first, I _did_ make a deal with you, didn't I? I was to tell you which toys I wanted you to use on me, and how...". She waits for him to release her hair so she can take a closer look at what is available to them.

Loki smiles, fingers loosening to a caress, and cocks his head. "So brave. Very well, tell me _all_," he murmurs, and raises an eyebrow in invitation, his smile slightly knowing.

She snorts and slips off his lap. "Something tells me breaking my deal with you would be the _real_ test of my bravery." She walks over to the catalog, trying not to blush though it's a lost cause. She scrolls through a few pages, trying not to squeeze her thighs together as she imagines him using certain things on her.

She finally settles on a vibrator and a set of vaginal beads. She's never used beads before, and she's curious, and the vibrator has a small ridge swirling the length of the toy, and she imagines that it will feel..._interesting_ once it's inside her.

She turns to Loki. "Those two, my Lord," she points, sighing inwardly; her face feels like it's crimson by now.

But she's not done - there's still the _how_, isn't there? _Crap._ She struggles to find the words. "The vibrator - well, I would love for you to tie me down and then tease me with it, all over my body, but especially all my...tender regions, shall we say. And then put it inside me." Christ, she's so turned on and yet embarrassed at the same time! "The vaginal beads...well, those are pretty self-explanatory, aren't they? I can't imagine that _you_ need _me_ to tell you how they are used." She waits to see if he'll be satisfied with that.

"Mmmmm," he considers her words, amused and aroused at the same time. Yes, many images come to mind, most of them juicy with potential. He rises from the chair and gives a slow nod. "Yes, I think those are . . . necessary." He taps the order in, and flicks another page of the catalog. "And while we are waiting for those, I believe I will add _these_ and . . . _that_."

He watches her eyes widen, the pupils full and dark. "Objections?"

She swallows hard. "N-no, my Prince." _Christ, gonna regret this..._

Carefully he cups her chin, bending to bring his face close to hers, his breath against her cheeks. "Oh good. We are going to have a memorable time, kitten mine, and when we are done you will have _earned_ my collar, won't you?"

He motions to her to slip her dress on over the red lingerie, which she does with only a second or two of hesitation. She scoops up her old underwear and balls it up in her hand for now.

After that it's only a matter of moments until the elegant bags arrive after a discreet knock on the door. Maximilian hands them to Loki, who produces a little velvet bag that clinks with the sound of heavy coins. He looks to his pet and nods, and then strolls through the lobby of Très Méchante, grinning. Within thirty steps they are back in the mall, in the hustle and flow of regular humanity.

"Are you hungry?" he asks her, glancing towards an ice cream shop.

She shoves her handful of underwear into one of the shopping bags as she gives a short laugh. "Look at me - I'm _always_ hungry. The cost of a high metabolism. _I'm_ buying, though." She reaches automatically for her purse...before remembering she doesn't have it on her. Ooops.

Loki snickers, and strides over to the counter. The girl there looks up at him and blinks, clearly a little overwhelmed by the suit.

"You will give my consort your best confection," Loki orders silkily. "Now, and gratis."

Star rolls her eyes at his imperious tone. Sure, he's a prince and used to being waited on, but...

"Uh, what does she want?" the girl mumbles, looking from Loki to Star in confusion. "I don't think we put any gratis on stuff here."

Loki sighs and looks to his pet for help. _Midgardians_, he thinks.

"Loki, behave yourself," she chides him under her breath. "Nothing is free here...except _me_. Give the poor kid a break - anything you get us free technically comes out of _her_ salary."

"Very well," he grumbles, and fishes out something small from inside his coat. The little stone carving is only an inch high, and utterly charming. The counter girl smiles and scoops it up.

"That's an Elskine figurine! My granny has those and they're worth a shitload! Okay, anything you want guys, on the house!"

Star looks suspiciously at Loki. "That had better not be a pebble disguised by one of your illusions," she mutters. "Just because you HAVE a dick, doesn't mean you have to BE a dick."

Loki purses his mouth for a moment, but it's to stop himself from grinning. "I carved that myself, I'll have you know. Not an illusion, although not one of my better works."

She rolls her eyes again. The sooner she gets this over with, the better. "Just give me a scoop of salted caramel ice cream. In a sugar cone, please." As the girl turns away, she pokes Loki with her elbow. "_Behave_, you. I mean it. There's no bigger turnoff for me than you getting all high and mighty with the hired help. I used to work in retail."

Loki pauses, and then looks to the counter girl. "How much would you say that Elskine is worth, pretty maid?"

The girl gave a pleased snort. "About sixty bucks, but you can't have it back, Mister-a deal's a deal, and my granny is gonna be_ thrilled_ to get a Loki!"

Star is startled into laughing out loud. "You made a figurine...of _yourself_!?"

"I wanted a worthy subject," Loki replies, and accepts the cone. He hands it to Star and adds, "Carving is an old and worthy skill, pet. Ice Giants come by it naturally, and many hold great skill. Who do you think did the runes? Certainly not your Midgardian ancestors."

Star glances worriedly at the counter girl, but she doesn't seem to have noticed the odd content of their conversation. "Fair enough. I love doing things with my hands. Or rather, I used to - motherhood is keeping me too busy." She sighs and takes a taste of the ice cream. Yum. "Are you having any?" she asks him.

Loki watches her in fascination, caught up in the swirl of her tongue on the cone. He blinks a little. "What?" he asks, aware that she's asked him something, but not sure what the question was.

"Ice. Cream. Are you having any, or are you just going to watch me eat?" She can't decide if his interest in her licking the dessert is creepy or funny. Both, probably. Deliberately, she licks it again. _Slowly._ "Mmm." She winks up at him. "Thanks, by the way. This is the last time I go teleporting without my purse, I promise."

"Yes," he murmurs, still caught up in her sensual strokes along the cone. "You are . . . enjoying that. A lot."

She shakes her head, equal parts amused and exasperated. "Men are all the same. _Everywhere_," she informs the counter girl, who nods but looks confused. Star gazes critically at Loki. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you're the chocolate type. Give my tall arrogant friend here the same, but make it a scoop of the '72% Chocolate'." She thinks for a moment, then adds: "On second thought, make that _two _scoops." Got to account for Aesir appetite and all.

Loki's question of 'What is chocolate?' is answered a few moments later when he tastes the divine darkness for the first time. The pleasurable shock jolts through him and he openly gasps after the first swallow.

"Nice, eh?" Star agrees. "Normally I go for that, but I'm on a caramel kick lately." She shrugs and licks her own cone.

Loki shudders, then bends low to Star, holding her gaze with his as he hoarsely whispers, "I want to lick this flavor off of every inch of you. This. Must. Happen."

"Holy _fuck_," she blurts out. "Y-yeah, OK," she stutters, grabbing his arm and trying to get him to follow her. "Thanks hon!" she calls back over her shoulder to the girl. "Just not _here_, OK?" she insists to Loki in a stage whisper.

"Agreed," he nods, and slips an arm around her, carefully cradling his precious, precious chocolate cone in the other hand. They blink out in a flash of green and white.


	3. Chapter 3

**Star-Crossed (3/?)**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: June 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Crack!fic; Loki and Star have fun with chocolate and test-drive some of their purchases.**

**Disclaimer: *checks* Yes, still owned by Loki. I think that's a permanent affliction.**

**Authors' Note: Starhawk wrote the OFC's POV, and Cincoflex wrote Loki's.**

"Chocolate," Loki purrs, eyes bright. "At last, something from Midgard _worthy _of a god besides you, pet."

She laughs and licks at her own ice cream. "Remember that the next time you start putting us humans down. Asgardians may be superior to humans in many ways but...WE are the ones who invented chocolate!" She gives him a wink.

"Chocolate," Loki murmurs. "Had there been this in the Allfather's hall I would have succeeded in my bid to be king. A warrior fueled by such divine sustenance cannot be defeated." He works on his cone for a moment, an expression of almost boy-like delight on his face.

She grins at his expression; it's too cute to resist. Then Star starts working seriously on her own cone.

By the time he's down to one scoop of ice cream remaining, that's when it occurs to her that if she lets him finish it- "Slow down there, big boy. Wasn't there something you planned to do with that? I seem to recall it was some kind of recipe - chocolate plus me?" She gives him another saucy wink, and adds: "Though I would be grateful if you let me finish my cone first. Given you're an Ice Giant, I don't imagine keeping your ice cream from melting will be that much of a problem. If it pleases you, of course, my Prince."

Loki stares at his cone for a moment, then blows a soft breath on it, chilling it instantly. He holds it out and a ghostly hand takes the cone. When he turns to face his pet, she is close to laughing, and he realizes he must have smudges on the corners of his mouth. Carefully he wipes a thumb around the corners of his mouth and licks the traces away.

His little home in the pocket universe is cozy and warm; outside the tall windows snow is falling and making the flames in the fireplace hiss.

Loki looks towards the bed and then arches an eyebrow at his pet, caught between impatience and the after-bliss of the chocolate.

Not missing his mood, she finishes the cone in two bites, thinking fast the whole time. She brushes a few crumbs off her hands and then, smiling a little shyly at him, she unzips her pink dress and lets it slide to the floor for the second time that day, leaving her in the new red corset, panties, and her sandals.

Star lowers her eyes and walks slowly past Loki to the foot of the bed, then takes a deep breath and kneels down on the carpet there, next to the chair he spanked her in last time. She keeps her eyes on the weaving shapes of the dragons and snakes that adorn the rug underneath her. "My Lord," she says, and waits.

He gives a delighted laugh and moves towards her, circling around and gazing down at her demure pose. "Now this is more like what I prefer . . . a pet eager to play. We have toys_ and _time to enjoy ourselves. Rise up, little one and let us begin."

Loki enjoys her slightly apprehensive look, and motions to the chair. From his pet's confused expression she was expecting the bed, but part of the fun is to catch her off-guard. He gestures for her to sit, and she does, looking cutely suspicious.

And beautiful. With care Loki kneels in front of her, resting his hands on her thighs, holding her gaze for a moment. "I want more chocolate," he tells her, and adds, "arms up, pretty toy."

Hesitating, she complies, her expression making it clear that she's not sure she trusts him.

Loki concentrates, and suddenly his double is standing behind her, hands gripping her wrists, holding them up and out.

She starts. "What the f-" She looks back over her shoulder and sees another Loki. _Oh crap. _Like it's not difficult enough submitting to one Loki.

Her whole body is trembling, but she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, struggling to steady herself. It's another him, but it _is_ him. She opens her eyes and meets the original Loki's gaze and holds it, challenging as that is.

"Why leave you in my ghost hands when you can have _all_ of me holding you?" Loki murmurs. "Restraints of a more loving sort, yes?"

He concentrates and the hands holding Star's wrists stroke their thumbs over her pulse points. She shudders a little, which does lovely things for her chest in the corset. Loki-behind-her gives a little purr as well.

Beckoning the ghostly hand holding the cone, Loki pulls the scoop of ice cream off of the cone, holding it in his fingers and looking over the top of it at her. "Now . . . where to begin?" he asks in a chatty tone.

She can't help a giggle despite the remnants of her anxiety. "May I suggest you let me remove my clothes? Unless there's a laundromat service somewhere in this Club Med Arctic of yours." The Loki behind her is standing _very_ close, and she can't resist pressing herself back, rubbing herself against him. Call it a private experiment - does his clone react the same way to stimulation as the original? And taking just a _little_ control, however small, does help settle her nerves ever so slightly.

"Ah-ah," Loki shakes his head. "Part of the fun is the mess, and yes, as a matter of fact magic _will_ take care of the aftermath."

Loki-behind-her gives a sigh. "I _felt_ that, minx. Perhaps I had better tighten my grip." He doesn't though, and instead moves to nibble on her fingers.

Loki brings the ball of chocolate ice cream forward and touches it just under her jaw line where the chill of it makes her flinch ever so slightly. He strokes it very lightly, barely skimming her flesh, and then moves to lick.

_Jesus Christ_. The cold feels good, but Loki's hot tongue on her is even better...and then there's the sensuality of the _other _Loki's teeth on her skin, too. She squeezes her thighs together and squirms in the chair, moaning, pressing her neck harder against Loki's mouth. She's already right on the edge of overwhelmed, and they've barely started with her. How will she keep her sanity?

Loki savors the mingled flavors of chocolate and sweet skin, the blend of tastes. He quickly strokes the ice cream along his pet's neck, and reaches the melting ball up to dab it along one of her arms, stroking it down to the sensitive crook of her elbow.

Loki-behind-her bends and begins to lick her arm, and Loki turns his attention back to Star's neck, feeling her shiver and squirm. So delicious, so beautifully playful . . .

She whimpers and lets her head loll back against the clone behind her, her hands clenching into fists as she struggles to deal with everything she's feeling. Her thighs squeeze together again as heat coils inside her belly. "Oh gods," she groans.

At that, both Lokis laugh, a delighted and very masculine sound. Loki holds the dripping ice cream over the top halves of her breasts and lets drops fall there, bending to flick them up again with his tongue, letting his lips kiss her as well. Loki-behind-her leans over her shoulder to snatch a bite from the ice cream.

Loki presses his face deeper into the cleavage created by the corset, determined to recover every bit of ice cream but the scent of his pet's skin arouses him further and he is tempted to nip.

The noises she's making would embarrass her if she was bothering to pay attention to anything other than what the Lokis are doing to her. She thinks she might melt faster than the ice cream if they don't take her clothing off soon, but she keeps that barely-coherent thought to herself - Loki's the one in control here. She has to hold on by her fingernails to keep from drowning.

Her eyes focus in time to notice the clone eating some ice cream...Oh no, what _now_? Can she take any more of this?

Loki lifts his head and gives a nod to his counterpart; with a gentle tug, Loki-behind-her pulls her to her feet, his greater height making him a perfect vertical restraint. Loki makes no move to rise himself; instead, he hooks the fingers of his free hand into the tiny waistband of the panties in front of his face and gives his most innocent smile.

"There is only a little chocolate left," he sighs. "And it is melting very fast now. I shall have to work quickly to enjoy it and YOU."

Loki-behind-her uses one foot to nudge hers apart.

Oh, so that's his game. "If it pleases you, my Dark Lord. _Lords,_" she manages in a throaty purr of her own. She tilts her hips forward by way of invitation and bites her lip, inwardly bracing herself.

It's as pretty an invitation as he's ever gotten from her, and Loki breaks into a laugh. Loki-behind-her slides his hands from her wrists down her arms to the corset, working the hooks in the back and letting it fall away. Once her torso is bared he cups her breasts.

Loki meanwhile, has undone the string ties at each hip, and his pet's panties drift down as well. He works one shoulder between her thighs and brushes his face against the warm, sweet fluff between her hips. Cold fingers wet with the confection brush through her fur, followed by his tongue.

"_God_," she gasps again as the cold fingers slip across her sensitive nub, followed by the heat of his mouth, and the other Loki turns the temperature up even more by squeezing both her nipples hard. But her hands are free now, and she wants to _touch_.

One of her hands works its way behind and between her and the clone. She can feel his arousal against her and she presses her palm around it as best she can, given the relative difference in their heights. The fingers of her other hand tangle in Loki's hair and _tug_.

Does Loki feel what's happening to his clone as if it's happening to his own body? But she doesn't have the wherewithal to follow through on that thought, as Loki suckles on her, the vibrations of his humming purr sending shocks all over her body, and wrenching a sharp cry from her lips. She can feel sweat beading up on her face, running down her sides, and her hips buck helplessly.

So much sensory overload, and Loki dimly realizes he cannot keep up his illusion, not when his entire concentration is focused on the waves of pleasure rolling through his pet's body, making her squeak and groan, her hands clinging to his hair. It would be cruel to push her to the point of pain, so he softens his mouth and lets it rest against her stiff flesh, feeling the thrum of her frantic pulse here in the tenderest of places. And there is still chocolate to be enjoyed in soft little wet kisses as she drifts back from her climax.

But she is close to toppling, so he presses a last, loving kiss to the slick cleft between her thighs and stands himself, aware of his own aching arousal even as he slides an arm around her waist and pulls Star to him. "Such a _good _plaything," he murmurs thickly, steering her towards the bed.

She slumps against the mattress and Loki presses behind her, fresh lust spiking at the sight of her bent over and submissive. To take her this way . . . oh he wants it, wants it _very_ much, but only if his pet agrees-

"Please," he growls through gritted teeth, rocking his hips against her ass, slowly losing control at the gorgeous image she makes, stretched over, face rosy from her orgasm, eyes bright. "Tell me I may have you _this_ way, right now."

_He's asking_ _me_? She can't help a gasping laugh. "So polite all of sudden, my Lord? The answer is YES. It's my favourite position so...go to town." She pushes back against him just to make things asclear as possible. She would help him with his fly, but she's not sure she can get her fingers to work just now.

He stops listening after 'yes' and manages to free himself from the damnable confines of his clothing, pausing only to stroke his fingers along the glistening seam of her sex, parting the pink petals of it before bringing his shaft up and plunging deeply within his pet. The stroke forces a growl from him, and the wet squeeze of her body sears away all civilized thought. _TAKE_, is all he can think, and Loki thrusts, finding a hard rhythm, his hands sliding over the sweet mounds of his pet's ass to her hips, pushing her roughly against the bed, grinding her there.

Some tiny part of him remembers to slide a hand underneath, and cup that lovely palm-full of fur. He feels the little bud of joy rub against his hand and when Star gives a sweet little cry he drives himself harder into her, savoring the wet sounds their bodies make when he mounts her. It is rougher than he's been before, but the heat of his blood singing through the ice of his prick is not to be denied.

The rippling squeezes of his pet's climax against his sullen cock bring matters to crisis, and Loki arches, feeling the thick gushes splatter deep within his beautiful pet, the pleasure making him grunt hard. Perfection lies in this primitive bridge of their bodies-male to female, older than the stars.

She gasps, still shaking as he slips free of her. _Holy crap, that was..._.her brain fails to find the proper words. Loki collapses forward next to her on the bed, and after fumbling off her sandals, she climbs up and snuggles up against him. His eyes are glazed when she looks up at his face, and she doesn't bother to suppress her grin. So even _gods_ get a little hazy after sex.

When he finally seems to have his full faculties back, she says: "Well, that's the best experience I've _ever_ had with chocolate...especially considering I didn't get to TASTE any of it!" She pauses, then realizes- "Oh wait, I can fix that." She kisses him deeply, sliding her tongue between his parting lips. He tastes both of chocolate, and of _her_.

"And just for the record," she adds after their kiss ends, being sure to meet his hazy eyes, "You don't need to ask for permission. Whenever you feel the urge, feel free to take me from behind. HARD. Actually, I'd _prefer_ it if you would." She smirks.

"My preference as well," he rumbles, his voice deep in his chest as he sighs. "Chocolate. But first, we rest." He pulls her down and across him, letting his clothes shift away until he's in bare skin, and tucks his pet close as he yawns.

-oo00oo-

Star sighs, deeply satisfied, and allows herself to sink a little deeper into the hot water of the bathing pool. Her hips, belly, breasts and cheek rub against Loki as she does so, since he's holding her within the circle of his arms.

"You know," she comments after long moments of comfortable silence, her eyes closed, "You promised to lick chocolate off of 'every inch' of me...but even though you fell far short of that goal, you pleased me so well with the areas you did 'flavour', that I'm going to forgive you. _This _time," she teases.

"I do not recall it as a promise," Loki counters. "More of an ambition, but with only two-what did you call them? scoops-it was not possible to devour my share _and _cover you. Besides, you Midgardians are frail and susceptible to cold. Had I actually covered you with this confection you would probably die. Chocolate is dangerous."

"Not a promise? Yeah, you're right - it was more of a _proclamation_." Smiling, she gently pokes him in the ribs. "And the only thing chocolate is 'dangerous' to is my waistline. Maybe yours too, if you don't exercise a little...restraint."

"I am Loki; I do what I want," he reminds her firmly. "Although at the moment I have had my fill of confection and would prefer plainer fare."

He scoops green lotion from a carved bowl and scrubs her hair, the suds thick and scented of mint as his long fingers work the lather thoroughly. "This grows in the shade in Asgard, and it is said it brings great fortune to those who use it."

His fingers on her scalp make her purr in contentment, and she presses herself more firmly against him. "I can always use a little extra fortune," she answers. There was something she wanted to ask him, wasn't there? She furrows her brow, trying to remember, though the massaging action of his fingers as they drift down and rub soap into the back of her neck makes it a challenge. Wait, yes- "How does that whole 'double' thing of yours work, anyway? If I touch your clone, do _you_ feel the sensation on your body, too?"

"Yes," Loki murmurs. "The illusions I make are capable of feeling sensation as well, although they are not as solid as flesh. They are more like bright shadows I move by my will. The more I make, the lesser each is, so when I create only one, as I did today, it is capable of feeling what I feel to an almost equal degree."

It's a rare skill, Loki knows, and one that Thor is unable to cope with. Useful in trickery, and full of potential now that Loki has a pet to play with.

"Oh good, I'd hate to think my _groping_ went to waste." She grins. "Speaking of which, you've been quite the dirty boy, haven't you?" Winking, she scoops up a handful of green lotion and stretches up as high as she can to work it into his hair. "I'm sure the God of Mischief could use a little good fortune of his own."

He submits like the elegant tomcat he is, allowing her to groom him and lounging in the process, his manner lordly. "Mayhap I should mirror _you,_" he teases. "Then I would have a harem to pleasure me."

She gives a snort of derision. "Dude, you can barely handle ONE of me." Deliberately, she runs her hands down his chest and belly and then gives his balls a gentle squeeze. Truly overtaken by a mischievous impulse, she lets a fingertip brush across the sensitive area just _behind_ his sac. What kind of reaction will _that_ get?

Loki shivers and gives her small smile even as he reaches for her hand, capturing it in his larger one. "Lightly, pet," he warns, and pulls her hand up out of the water. "Once I wore an iron link there, and not always pleasurably."

She winces. "Um, OK. That was _not_ the reaction I was going for, sorry." She scoops up a little more soap and starts massaging it into his shoulders and arms instead. That seems safer. _An iron link? I don't think I want to know...again, better brush up on my Norse Mythology. Clearly._

"In my year of servitude, I wore iron," Loki tells her, closing his eyes. "Iron is the one metal that defeats magic; legends even on Midgard tell of that. My mistress had me cuffed and pierced, and often forced to wear the cage of the stallion when I grew rebellious. And while a banded cock can be pleasurable, overuse can make a male . . . sensitive."

She winces again. "Yikes. Way to kill the mood, me," she chides herself out loud.

"I think not," Loki assures her, bringing a hand to lift her chin. "I simply did not want you assuming that I disliked your touch. You are a good and gentle kitten, and with you I feel . . . protective."

"Sometimes I can be gentle," she agrees with a sly smile. A god feels protective of her? That's a new experience. "Well, I can assure you that if you ever decide you want to bottom to me, I'm not really into that kind of thing - this whole 'erotic discomfort' thing, I mean."

Loki gives her a look, one corner of his mouth going up in a slightly crooked grin. "Oh? You, the pet who tells me what to do and when? I think that if I set you on a throne and offered to lick your feet you would not object _too _much."

"If you offered, I'd say yes, sure. But put some kind of spiked leash on you and _drag _you into doing it - leaving aside the fact you're too damned strong for me to even attempt that, of course - nope. What I meant was, wrapping genitalia in cages and piercing body parts isn't my thing. Minor erotic discomforts that don't involve body mods - is that specific enough for you, Mr. Mischief? Or are you just messing with me?" She backs off from him and crosses her arms above the watterline, putting on her best affronted expression.

He laughs. "You _want_ to be constrained, Pet. You want me to tie you up and tie you down more than anything else, so that you do not have to worry about pleasing me. I understand this, and I enjoy it very much. It is a sweet, sweet game I am willing to play with you."

"Of course that is my preference, I won't lie," she admits, relaxing. "But why should I get all the fun? You should get to relax and enjoy sometimes, too. Wouldn't you like that?" She smiles and approaches him again, this time wrapping her fingers gently around his length. "You can't lie to me," she says in a low voice. "Here you are, playing the Dom, but now we're talking about ME being in charge, and you're already hard. Your mouth may be full of lies, but your cock is telling me all the truth I need to hear." She gives a soft squeeze to emphasize her point.

"My cock would stand even if my own ghostly hands caressed it," Loki points out lightly, "and you are in charge whether you admit it or not. All men can be led by the prick-some constantly, like my brother and his warriors. The difference is that I have chosen you, and you have agreed. We are creatures who appreciate our appetites, yes?"

"What, you think you aren't worthy to be chosen by _me_?" She shakes her head. "We'll see about that." She shrugs and backs away from him again. "I don't see any need to continue that line of discussion. If you'll excuse me for a moment, my Prince, I never quite developed the skill for soaping myself up while immersed in water." She hoists herself up onto the edge of the pool, reaches for more of the green lotion, and starts to work it into the rest of herself, smiling inwardly as she pretends to ignore Loki's amused grin.

"As you wish," he tells her. "Although if you want me to watch, I am more than willing to do so. You are very easy to watch."

He catches one foot under the water and strokes a thumb along her instep, his expression innocent.

She gasps. "You can watch, as long as you stop _tickling_," she retorts, wriggling her foot away from his grasp.

"Ah but where would be the fun in _that_?"

She rolls her eyes. "If you're really nice, when I'm done soaping and rinsing off, I'll finish washing the rest of you." She cocks her head. "By the way, anybody ever tell you how silly you look with soapsuds all over your head?" She grins at him.

"Thor did, when we were small. I told him my prick would always be bigger than his," came the confident reply. "The truth can be so much crueler than a lie sometimes."

She shakes her head. "How many times must I say it, Loki? SIZE DOESN'T MATTER; it's how you _use_ it." Smirking at him, she starts to oh so slowly work soapy hands over her breasts. She lets her fingertips run slickly around and around, and then she rolls and squeezes her nipples gently. "Why yes, I _am_ a dirty girl," she says in response to his smoky gaze.

What is making her so bold all of a sudden? Maybe it's the fact that Loki seems to so obviously enjoy watching. Even now, she can see the struggle in him to keep away from her, to watch and not _touch_; he stretches his arms along the top edge of the pool, his long arms nearly encompassing half the length of its rim. His fingers move restlessly against the rough rocky edges, like the tail of a hunting cat.

Heavy-lidded, he watches her closely indeed. His lovely, capricious little pet. So very full of surprises.

Her fingers glide down her stomach, making small circles the whole way, and then she raises a foot out of the water and places it on the pool's rim, spreading herself wide. She doesn't miss the tiny sound Loki makes as she does so. She meets his eyes, wordlessly challenging him as she starts to work the lather into her curls.

His loins ache as he watches her tease herself, gentle strokes around every petal, then she sweeps her fingers across the tender little bud, biting her lip as she does so, and her eyes never leave his.

"Feel free to touch yourself, Loki," she purrs huskily. "Why not give each other a show?"

He has half a mind to refuse but his own ache drives him. He drops a hand into the heated waters and closes his fingers lightly around his rapidly growing length.

"I can't see anything," she complains, motioning him towards the stairs at pool's side.

"You _shall_," Loki assures her, scooping some soap from the bowl on his way to ease the passage of his fingers on his shaft as he drapes himself languidly over the stairs.

The touch is easy and familiar; habits begun in secret and given much practice over the years. Loki remembers Thor being much enamored of 'spilling himself into the Milky Way' as he called it, and there were years when it was as much a daily ritual as feasting.

Still, having his pet watch sends a frisson of delight through him. To be observed, possibly admired and lusted for-very gratifying. Loki lightly caresses himself, letting the slickness of the soap help his hand glide along the underside of the shaft. The fur at his groin is dark and sleek, gleaming with water droplets as he lightly cups himself

Slow strokes, delicate squeezes along his shaft, hand moving in an unrushed rhythm. Loki risks looking over at his pet, and feels himself throb when he sees her expression.

Now it's _her_ turn to make small sounds deep in her throat, and by the glitter of her gaze it's clear to Loki that he has her undivided attention. He flashes her a wicked grin. "Admiring my . . . staff?"

"You could say that," his pet says in a slightly dazed tone, and he notices when she leans forward.

"Mmmm," Loki chuckles. "Given how very accommodating you've been, it's fond of you too."

She shakes her head and half-smiles, her small hand still gently working between her legs. Loki wonders how much longer before her need drives her to pounce upon him.

He's so beautiful, if one can say that about a man, and as much as Star enjoys watching him, as much as it feels good to touch herself, her impatience grows quickly. Finally she can't wait any longer; she jumps into the pool and dunks herself fully, rinsing all the soap away, then approaches him. "Well, that's about as clean as I am capable of getting," she jokes, winking at him. "Your turn."

She scoops up more soap and makes short work of his arms, legs, and belly, deliberately ignoring his 'staff' for now. He raises a brow when she orders him to turn on his side so she can do his back, but he doesn't argue, and she can't resist washing his muscular rear, though given the story he told her earlier, she doesn't allow herself to touch too roughly (much as she wants to dig her fingers into those hard cheeks) or to linger long.

"You are very...thorough," he comments when she's done and he rolls back into his previous position.

She laughs. "I have an almost four-year-old. Sometimes it feels like all I do is give baths! It's a lot more fun to clean a lean and mean god, though."

His prick fills her grip easily, and he has to resist hunching his hips forward as her hands tighten and slide. One of her hands moves up and down his shaft, the other cups the head, pressing fingers into the pulsing, soft flesh, and finally Loki can take no more, scooping her up with a low growl vibrating in his chest.

He tosses her lightly back into the water, the splash washing over the rim of the pool, then he dunks and rinses all the soap from himself. Like the predator he is, he stays fully under the water until he has Star leashed in his grip, and then he rises to his full height, taking his willing prey up with him.

"We have acquired treasures we must indulge in," Loki reminds her. "Let us see how you react to your toys, pet, but first-sustenance. It will allow us time to dry off."

There is logic to his plan, and they end up at the little table near the fireplace, indulging in warm venison dressed with lingonberries. Loki has the manners of an aristocrat-nothing like the sloppy excesses of most Asgardians. He makes sure his pet has enough to eat and drink, pleased to be able to provide.

After all, they will require the fuel, if he judges his pretty kitten rightly.

The bags are still on the floor, and Loki motions to the ghostly hands, beckoning them to retrieve. When they do, he unpacks the one with Star's selections, and eyes the toys for a moment, well-aware that she is watching.

He holds up the vibrator. "Supplanter?"

She shudders slightly in anticipation, a corner of her mouth quirking. "It can't mow the lawn, my Lord. Your position of authority over me is safe." She grins over at him. "I do believe I asked to be tied down first, as I recall." She tips him a little curtsey, silly as that is given her nudity.

Loki nods and the ghostly hands fly to grab her wrists and ankles. They lift her from the floor and carry her to the bed, dropping her there and shifting her until she's spread eagle on the furs, unable to do more than wriggle under their secure grip. Loki wipes his mouth and wanders over, carrying the vibrator like a royal scepter. He hums a little, looking down the length of the toy, studying it. "Hmmmm, interesting."

The predictable blush stains her cheeks. "I hope so," she observes. "Although if you're that curious, I'm sure I could be persuaded to use that on _you_, at a later date." Saucily, she winks at him. She tugs a little but the ghost-hands have zero give. "That looks like a particularly dangerous weapon in your hands. Does SHIELD know?" she continues, unable to resist the urge to tease. It's the sole weapon _she_ has at the moment.

He gives the toy an absent stroke, knowing the action looks naughty. "I have no doubt Fury and his merry band of thugs have many toys of their own, not that I wish to think of them at this moment. Difficult enough to banish the thought of Thor in a gown."

His pet snorts a giggle, and Loki moves to the side of the bed, resting a hip on it and looking from her to the toy in his hands. "So, this image of man . . . it shivers. Let us test it on your skin then." Loki gives it a twist and swings it to ever so lightly touch the crook of one of his pet's elbows.

She sucks in a breath and closes her eyes. "Not bad," she opines with a little smile. "A little ticklish. Good thing you're holding me down. All in the name of research, I'm sure."

Loki turns the toy and runs it along his own elbow experimentally, cocking his head at the sensations. "Interesting," he repeats. "In my feminine form this _would_ be tempting."

Before his pet can speak, he shifts it back to her, running it lightly under her breasts, quick enough to tease, and slow enough to be enjoyed. He does the same over her collarbones, circling down closer to her nipples but not touching them.

She groans and tries to arch up into the tingly touch. "You're such a tease, my Lord." She meets his gaze, holding it as she licks her dry lips slowly. And suggestively.

She aches, but the truth is she doesn't mind as much as with their previous encounters; sometimes it's nice to savour a slower approach.

Loki hums a little and moves the toy carelessly over her lips, then circles it back to flick each nipple. For a while he alternates touching her mouth and nipples, making sure each cycle is a different, unpredictable speed; sometimes quick, sometimes achingly slow. He can almost _see _the heat rise from her skin, and the pebbly surface of her nipples look so firm as to be on the edge of painful.

"Which should I kiss first, pretty pet?" he asks. "Whatever you choose, the toy will go to the other."

She can't decide - either possibility has too much potential. It's not like her brain is at optimal function either, thanks to a certain God. "I dictated which toys and being tied down. Seems only fair to let you decide which part of me you would kiss first, my Prince."

Before the words have even finished leaving her mouth, Loki brushes it with the toy and catches one nipple in his teeth, giving just enough pressure to the nub to make her groan loudly. He leaves the nipple wet and moves to the other one, repeating the action, then blows his cool breath over both of them. His pet writhes, hips twisting as the toy circles her lips when she pants.

The mix of pleasure-pain-cold makes her squirm against the restraining hands, wetness gathering between her legs. Her tongue flicks out to touch the toy, running along the raised ridges on its surface. It makes her even hotter to imagine what those ridges are going to do to her, moving deep inside her.

Loki leans over and presses the very tip of the vibrator against her bottom lip. "You wanted a taste?" he asks, waiting to hear her reply.

Experimentally, she takes the toy into her mouth, but it's a strange sensation; the vibrations moving against her teeth are not exactly pleasant.

She twists her face until the vibrator slips out of her mouth. "I'd rather taste _you_," she purrs, a rasp at the edge of her voice."Your lips, or your nipples, or...whatever other part of you that you want to feed me." She licks her lips again, sensuously, raking her gaze down the long length of his pale body.

Loki shakes his head, hair swinging as he does so. "This is all about your shiny new toys, sweet pet. We have not even unwrapped the other, have we? Perhaps now is the time."

He rises and moves back to the bags, pulling out the pair of heavy beads, examining them with interest. They are cheekily designed like large cherries, and Loki balances them from hand to hand, chuckling.

Her mouth drops open as she considers the possibilities. "You're not actually going to...use_ both _toys on me at the same time, are you?" She squirms against the hands, heat threading through all her limbs as her brain arrests on one mental image: the beads being inside her while Loki uses the vibrator on her nub... "Ungh, you're going to justkill me, Loki. I doubt whatever collar you've chosen for me will look half as pretty on my _corpse_."

"Is it not a saying of your people-'the more, the merrier?' " Loki asks, striving for innocence but with a gleam in his bright eyes. "I have faith in you, pet-you have amazing reserves of lust, and an appetizing . . . flexibility." He rolls the bright red orbs in one hand as he strides back to the bed, looking like a juggler readying himself for a show.

The look on her face-half pout, half breathless desire-sends a sweet shiver through him, and he savors it. One word, of course, one _serious_ protest and he would leave the second toy aside, but it_ is_ fun to make her live up to her suggestions.

He kneels down on the bed and runs a hand up her thigh, and she quivers in anticipation. Sometimes she wonders if he lied about his ability to read minds, and he's using it against her. Such are the dangers of sleeping with a God of Mischief? "We also say 'sometimes _less_ is more'," she replies tartly to his last remark.

"Very well," Loki sighs, and tosses the balls into the air, where another pair of ghostly hands catch them and return them to the bag. "Another time for the inner planets, then."

He reaches again for the first toy, bringing it inside one of her legs, letting it meander on her skin. In no particular pattern, Loki uses it to trace along the edges of her mound, circling her navel and making it dance along each hipbone before moving the sensations around each thigh and back down to the sensitive places behind her knees.

She groans, already figuring out where this is going - or rather, NOT going. He's going to make her beg, she can tell it just from his eyes. "OK, OK, do as you will with me, my Lord. Use whichever toys you want, _please_." Otherwise, she thinks he really _will_ tease her to death.

Loki looks up the length of her body, solicitous. "Oh, but I think this one is pleasing you very well all on its own. Clever thing. Let us see if it delivers what its design promises." Lightly he draws it up along the inside of one thigh and skims it over the lips of her sex, brushing them lightly and pulling back for a few seconds before applying the toy again, the hum almost musical.

Star writhes, biting her lip and arching her head back, and Loki lightens the touch, setting the vibrations at a slower level. He leans over his pet's body, bringing his face close to hers, words a deep whisper. "Shall I slide this beauty into you? Let it thrum deep inside while I let my tongue dance on the thicket of your sex?"

He can tell the thought is driving her mad and the thrill of watching that is enthralling too. Loki knows well that not _every_ intimate moment needs to end in spilled seed, and that the pleasure of driving his little pet into a frenzy is as delicious as coupling with her. She is a vision like this, restless, erotic, totally caught up in desire.

A loud whimper escapes her lips. _Oh God_. She wants that, oh yes. NEEDS and wants it. But if she says as much, will he refuse, just to keep on tormenting her? She tries to thrash against the binding hands, but it's useless. Heat twists along her skin, her nerves, as she imagines what it will feel like, toy and tongue working her in unison. "Please, please, Loki. I want- I _need _that, yes." Then, because his lips are so close to hers, she turns her head, trying to kiss them.

He lightly kisses her and nods. "Then you shall have it," Loki promises, and shifts to lean over her hips, fingers of his free hand lightly sliding up the wet seam of her sex, parting the delicate petals there. He lightly presses the tip of the toy in; not far, but enough to let her know what the sensation will be like. When his lovely Star arches up, he bends down to let his tongue flick against the stiff little nub barely visible.

With elegant dexterity, Loki alternates between gentle licks and slow thrusts of the toy, maintaining a deliberate rhythm as he does so. It's exhilarating to feel his pet tense, to taste her growing climax and he lets it build for a few minutes before slowing down. The second time, however, he takes pity on her whimpers and groans, and slides the toy deep as he suckles her bud.

She arches up against his mouth, light sweat along her body, muscles clenched in pleasure, and the sounds his pet makes-the cries of delight and satisfaction-are sweet music to him. This power, this ability to make an intelligent woman nothing more than a puddle of sensation and bliss is a secret delight, and Loki savors it. This is what defines a god, truly.

"Loki," she gasps as sanity returns. The ghostly hands release her as he gently slides the toy out, but his tongue remains, tasting the sweet results of his efforts, wringing a few smaller shudders of ecstasy from her.

Once he is done, leaving her spent and practically lifeless, she closes her eyes again at the memory of the feeling of each ridge passing into -or out- of her, one by one, and Loki's tongue sweeping across her bud each time, driving her higher and higher...

She clears her throat and laughs softly. "I'll have to put what we just did into an erotic story. Hell, I'll have to put _everything _we've done since we met into fiction, somehow." She stretches languorously, from fingertip to toe-tip. "With your permission, of course, my Prince," she adds.

"A saga worth the time," Loki agrees, tossing the toy in the air and having a ghostly hand catch it. "So your toy meets with your approval?"

She laughs again. "You could say that. The fact I just came so embarrassingly loudly didn't give you a clue?" She grins up at him.

"I suspected," he nods, "although part of the skill lies with he who wields it."

Loki reaches for her and catches her chin in his hand, making her look up at him. "There is more to this, though."

She furrows her brow. "Uh, what?" She's not sure what he's referring to. The toy? Their - if she's not being presumptuous - relationship? She struggles to order her thoughts. "I'm not following you."

He gives a little smile, his gaze mysterious. "Bonding, little one. Pleasure is the tie that binds us, and it is a strong one. Next time we shall see what other mischief we can make for each other. For now, though, I have a king to deceive and you have a confection to finish. And I have been promised the first piece."

She sighs - back to the real world again. She knows better than to ask him about kings and deceptions, much as she wants to.

"OK, but can I have a little nap first? I need enough energy to actually make the pie. That is, unless, you want to _help_...or can get your disembodied hands to. Or both. I promise I'll make it worth your while. Next time." Smiling, she trails a hand down his chest towards his groin.

Gently, he removes her hand. "The temptation is great, but my plans take me elsewhere," he reminds her, but kindly. Instead, he nudges her onto her side and curls himself around her small back, allowing her to find sleep.

Too short a time later by her estimation, she wakes reluctantly, but obeys his gesture to rise and dress herself. She retrieves her bra, balling it up and holding it in her hand as she slips the pink dress back on.

Loki steps behind her, pulling her firm against his body, and in a blinding instant they are back in her kitchen. She does not ask him this time whether her family will wake or not, she just changes quickly back into suitable clothes.

That's when the most shocking development of Loki's entire visit occurs - he actually _helps_ her. He, the God of Mischief, and not a single one of his 'helping hands' is in evidence.

He disdains peeling the apples (not a surprise), but measuring out the spices interests him, as do the finicky mechanics of mixing and rolling out the pastry. Star has to restrain a laugh at the sight of Loki with flour on his prim suit jacket...and nose. She kisses that particular dusting of flour away.

The pie takes some time to bake, but Star barely notices, as Loki pulls her onto the couch and starts flipping through the channels, though he's most interested in the Game of Thrones Season 2 DVD (again, not a surprise).

Once the 'confection' is done, Star sets it down on the counter. "Perhaps you could use your Jotunn powers to cool it, my Lord? Unless you prefer to wait..."

He shakes his head but looks regretful. "No. There are matters which, sadly, I must attend to. And I must conserve my magic for them; else I would be more than willing to arrest time again. However-"

His hand turns palely blue as he touches the pie, cooling it instantly.

Smiling, she reaches for a plate and fork, but then she hesitates. "One more favour I must ask, my Prince," she says hesitantly.

He smirks indulgently. "The first bite is promised; you cannot take that back."

"Never that," she counters, smiling. "If I give you a piece, my husband and colleagues will wonder where it went! So I think I need you to cast one of your illusions to hide that fact."

Loki inclines his head regally. "Consider it done."

Then comes the anxious moment for her. Everyone has always complimented her on her baking skills, but by 'everyone', that means _humans_. But what a Norse _God_ will think-

He chews the first forkful slowly, then meets her gaze. "Delectable; the tang reminds me of your own flavor," he purrs huskily, and she blushes.

"Not quite the same as chocolate, but still worthy of the feasting tables of Asgard." He arches an eyebrow at her and scoops up another forkful, even as he waves extravagantly with his free hand. Before her eyes, the pie on the counter is whole again.

She grins. "Glad you are enjoying it, Dark Lord." She starts to wrap the pie in plastic wrap. "I'm sure I could be persuaded to make you something with chocolate in the future. Mousse, maybe. If that interests you, you know where to find me," she adds over her shoulder to him. "And how to_ motivate_ me to do so, I'm sure."

His dangerous smirk is all the answer she requires.

**(Cincoflex's note: there will be more to come in at least one more chapter but in the meantime, a speculative contest: What toys did Loki select? Starhawk and I would **_**love**_** to see your guesses in your feedback, and if you're right, you'll get a personal note from Loki with some suggestions for what he'd like to do with them!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Star-Crossed (4/?)**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: June 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Crack!fic; Star decides Loki needs an attitude adjustment. And a little discipline.**

**Disclaimer: Not ours, we're just borrowing Loki for a short time. We'll give him back at some future point. Honest! **

**Authors' Note: Starhawk wrote the OFC's POV, and Cincoflex wrote Loki's.**

Battlesore.

He doesn't often have to resort to physical fighting, not with his many tricks and magic, but now and again it does come to brute strength, and this last was one of those times.

Victorious, of course, but at a price. Loki knows his body will heal bruises and contusions easily, but the unsettled restlessness will take longer. Even in success there is a period of time when the spirit needs support, and distraction. It has been nearly three weeks since he has been with his pet, and the thought of her is a balm to his thoughts. Loki decides that time with his feisty little pet is in order, and soon.

-oo00oo-

Star swipes sweat out of her eyes, cursing the hot sun beating down as her feet pound on the trail.

She's never been a fan of jogging, but it's inexpensive and she can work out whenever she wants. And she can _eat_ pretty much whatever she wants, so long as she exercises. She learned that lesson back in grad school.

_Come on_, she coaches herself, _just until that park bench over there_. Once there, she walks for about a minute.She's almost done, so once she's judged herself ready, she begins to jog again. This is the last leg; as soon as she crosses the bike path and makes it down to the street, she'll slow to a walk until she gets back to her condo-

A flash of light envelops her, and she stumbles, confused. _Lightning,_ on a sunny day?

Loki watches as his pet reels and catches herself, not tumbling to the ground, but definitely not steady on her feet. When she regains her senses, he smiles at her and steps closer. "Found you," he tells her smugly, and then wrinkles his nose. "You too, have been in battle?" Loki asks, eyeing her pink face and damp brow.

In his restlessness he has shifted his Hall, and now it sits on the edge of a cliff, sheltered on one side by the craggy mountain, and on the other, the spectacular view of the wild sea looms below. Most of his comforts remain the same, although there are new treasures carelessly tossed into corners.

"What?" she asks, finally finding her feet. She turns off her mp3 player and pulls the ear buds out, panting and then bending and bracing her hands on her knees. She winces inwardly to realize how the oversized red tee-shirt she jogs in is stuck to her skin with sweat, and her face feels sticky and damp. She's in dire need of a cold shower and deodorant. Loki didn't pick the best time to kidnap her!

"You are . . . battle-worn," Loki tells her, looking slightly vexed. "As am I. Attend me; we shall bathe."

She blinks at him, her brain still fogged by her runner's high. "'Battle'? Hell no. My kickboxing days are long behind me. . .and that was for exercise only, not competition. I was jogging. Not fighting." She chuckles. Then she recalls: "I take it your 'deception' didn't work on that king?"

Loki blinks back at her, rubbing his nose with one hand. "It . . . very nearly did. And I defeated him in the end; that is all that matters. There will be time enough to tell of it after you bathe me."

Star raises a brow. "Bathe you? Uh, d'you mind if I catch my breath first, please and thank you? In case you weren't listening, I was in the middle of _running_." She tugs at her soaked shirt to make her point.

Loki however, is not looking. Instead he's peeling off parts of his armor and dropping them carelessly to the rug, uncovering his pale, lean torso which is spotted here and there with lavender bruises and the occasional scrape. The muscles are sinewy and long; definitely distracting. When he looks up, a lock of hair falls over his forehead and his mouth is in a thin, impatient line.

She winces all over again to see the bruising. "Are- are you OK?" She walks hesitantly to him, stretching out careful fingertips to brush the lock of hair off his forehead.

Loki glances down at himself and gives a shrug. "I was worse, against the green one with your Avengers. This will heal soon. Why are you still dressed?" Clumsily he reaches for her shirt, tugging it up with impatient hands.

She rolls her eyes at his brusque manner and starts to strip down. "They are not 'my' Avengers, you can't pin that on me," she mutters, wondering at his mood. "And can I get a drink of water first, O Impatient One? Before I weaken from, you know, _dehydration_?"

"Fine, fine," Loki mutters with ill-grace. "I'm _so_ glad your delight in seeing me again shines through." It's a snide remark and he knows it, but some imp within him seems to have gotten a hold of his tongue, making him sharper than usual. "And you are of Midgard, so yes, they are _your_ Avengers. Stark took it upon himself to speak for the entire planet."

She shakes her head. "If this is how you are when you win your battles, remind me to absent myself when you _lose_," she mutters. Naked, she goes to stand near the entrance to the stairs leading down to the bathing pool - or where they would be, had Loki bothered to open the floor yet! - looking around for a ghostly hand. Can she make them do her bidding? "Water, please." She says flatly to the air, by way of experiment.

A hand glides over, holding a horn cup and presents it to her; the water in it is refreshing and icy-cold. Loki flexes his shoulders, looking both sullen and vulnerable as he stands there shirtless.

Interesting. She hadn't expected Loki's servants to respond to her.

Star drains the cup, then hands it back. "Well?" she asks Loki tartly. "You wanted to bathe, let's go. Or am I somehow expected to know the magic spell to open the way to the pool?" Sarcastically, she spreads her arms and says loudly: "Open sesame!"

The stones on the floor do not budge. Annoyed, Loki waves to a pair of hands to carry the soiled clothing-his and hers-away. "You are expected to provide comfort," he murmurs, and gestures to the floor, making a circular gesture that spins open the tiles like an iris. The stones that form the stairs click into place, and from below the steam of the water carries the scent of the sea. Loki waves to them, waiting for her to move.

She huffs in annoyance and descends the stairs, then sloshes into the hot pool. All her resolve to _submit,_ to surrender gracefully has evaporated. It is almost as if they are back at their first encounter, as if all the ground gained during her last time with him has been lost. They're butting heads, and it's only escalating.

Star should probably play the demure little pet, but she doesn't want to. Not until he loses his black mood, at least a little. She wonders what other options are available to her - if she dares to take them.

Loki follows his pet, feeling a sense of despair. Why could she not understand? He fumes a bit, wishing there was a way to put the matter into words. He had triumphed, but the victory had not felt complete. The hollowness is eating at him, and he wants . . . comfort. Wants to be praised and petted and told how well he has done.

Victory is hardly victory if there is no-one to share it with, Loki broods. His pet hasn't even _asked_ about it!

She doesn't wait for Loki to descend the stairs and remove the rest of his clothing before she's out of the water and seated on the rim of the pool, washing herself with the usual green lotion. Her movements are quick, entirely utilitarian, her eyes bent on the pool's waters rather than looking in his direction. Star makes no attempt to tease herself, or him, just to get clean as rapidly as possible.

Why does she feel like this? Because he yanked her out of her own life so abruptly, and then within moments, they were at odds? Had he been affectionate, or kind (as kind as he is capable of, at any rate), or seductive, or at least given her space to catch her breath. . .but no, he is peevish, and that is distinctly UN-attractive.

She tumbles back into the water to rinse, then turns her back on Loki and briefly scrubs her hair. A quick dunk later and, eyes still resolutely lowered, she scoops more lotion from the bowl and approaches him, her mouth pressed into a hard line as she attends to him.

Star cleanses him much the same way - quickly and efficiently, not letting her hands linger or explore, though she takes extra care over his bruises and scrapes. She can feel his gaze searing into the top of her head, but he is blocking her escape, so as soon as she is finished she retreats to her side of the pool, and _waits_ uncomfortably.

"You are not pleased to see me," Loki concludes glumly, not meeting her eyes. "I will not force you to do what does not come from your own desire for me, little pet, even though I have need of you." He rolls his head from shoulder to shoulder, fighting a wince as he does so. "Not even a kiss of greeting for me."

He's more mercurial than her preschooler. She shakes her head and approaches him again, sliding her hands up his firm chest and shoulders and taking his face between her palms, drawing him down for a deep kiss.

"Look, I don't understand what's going on here at all. I can only apologize for not being in the mood right away, because that's not how I'm wired. You can't yank me out of the middle of my life without any warning and not expect me to need some time to _adjust,_ to catch my breath." She presses her forehead to his and curls her fingers through his wet hair. "Is there something you wanted to talk about? I know you talked about leaving our lives and problems behind us while we're here, but we can drop that if you really need to unburden yourself."

Loki scowls a bit, but submits to her touches with visible relaxation. "I suppose I did assume much in simply retrieving you, but that is my way, pet. I cannot send word to you by messenger when I have desires for you. And I am . . ." he struggles to put it into words, "ill at ease. I cannot say why, but my mood is foul and I cannot shake it at the moment. I am . . . untethered."

He makes a fist and drops it hard on the side of the pool, chipping one of the stones. "_Nothing_ pleases me at the moment, not even my victory."

Star swallows nervously, looking at the damaged rock out of the corner of her eye. How is he supposed to be a good Dom while he's tense enough to break the, um, furniture? And easily displeased, to boot?

But he is relaxing under her hands, which gives her an idea.

"Follow me, Lord," she coaxes as she climbs out of the pool. At the top of the stairs, she pauses and says: "Robe, please?" to the air.

Two ghostly hands flutter up, carrying a sandy peach colored robe to her.

Loki follows her up the steps, watching as she slips herself into the robe. He frowns. "You will not need that. I prefer you bare." With a snap of his fingers the robe disappears even as Star attempts to tie it shut.

She rolls her eyes. "As my Lord wills," she grits out. She closes her eyes, tries to tame her irritation. That's when her calf muscle twinges. Uh-oh, she never stretched after her run. Bad idea.

She'd rather not sit bare-assed on the cold floor, so she goes over to the dragon-and-snake carpet and sits down, stretching out the offending leg. "I don't suppose you have any of that silene oil you mentioned in your email messages kicking around in here, do you?" she asks mid-stretch.

One of the ghostly hands brings her a small stone bottle; Loki turns his back to her and dries off with a towel.

She takes it. "Can I get a towel, too, please?" If she's going to be forced to do all this naked and all-but-soaking wet, Loki had better have one powerful anti-illness spell handy.

She is really not liking all this leftover aggression directed at her. He's _better _than that. Star sets her shoulders and walks over to him after the ghostly hand brings her the towel. She wipes herself down quickly, then uncorks the bottle and spills some into her palm, reaching towards his chest. She doesn't meet his eyes, lest she set him off again, she keeps her gaze instead on the motion of her hands on his smooth flesh.

Loki holds back, submitting to her touch, longing to relax under it, but he can tell his pet is on edge; tense.

Inspiration strikes. "Why don't you go lie down on the bed, my Prince?" she suggests, her voice a little stronger as she wipes the excess oil from his pectorals with the towel. "On your front," she adds. Now she won't have to feel his glower on the top of her skull. Win-win.

His expression is decidedly sour, but he tosses his towel aside and wordlessly stalks over to the bed, dropping himself onto it with a lot less than his usual grace.

"Here goes nothing," she mutters to herself. She settles down next to his side on the bed, applying the oil to the back of his neck and his strong shoulders. He'd said it enhanced sensation, if she remembers correctly, which she hopes will help improve matters.

His skin is soft and his muscles hard, and despite her own misgivings she enjoys touching him, relaxing into the rhythm as her palms make long strokes down his arms, her fingers pressing into his muscles. Next she anoints his back and spine, then his lean legs, and finally she rubs the oil into his backside, squeezing the firm mounds gently, unable to withhold a little smile. She sits back to take a quick break, shaking out her hands and smiling down at the smears of oil on herself.

Loving physical contact like this always improves _her_ mood. She hopes it's doing the same for him. "Time to turn over, my Lord," she suggests. "Am I pleasing you thus far?"

His voice is a deep purr. "Mmmmm." His pet has a marvelous sense of touch and already his tension is ebbing. "Keep going until I give you permission to stop."

She rolls her eyes, all her irritation swiftly returning. He chided her a short while ago for not kissing him, but has he touched _her_ at all this entire time (pulling on her shirt does _not_ count)? Has he made any effort to reciprocate at all? NO, goddamn him. "You know what? I think someone needs an attitude adjustment."

She gets off the bed, her movements stiff with annoyance. Quickly she scans Loki's hall, then decides the throne of wood and marble is the ideal place for her right now. She tromps over and seats herself on it, then pins Loki with her best imperious glare. Star points to the little fur cushion next to the throne. "Sit!" she commands. _Take that, _she thinks.

Loki looks over from the bed, astonished. The lovely stroking is over for now and probably for a while, judging from the look on his pet's face. She is scowling, and the expression ignites a low heat in his belly, a fury heavily infused with desire. Two thoughts occur simultaneously: _How DARE she?_ and _How magnificent!_

The latter one makes him blink. _Magnificent?_ Those pursed pretty lips, those blazing eyes, that unconscious command . . . yes, Loki admits reluctantly. His petite Star IS.

But this _isn't_ the way this moment is supposed to go, he argues, and rolls over to stare at her. It's unfortunate that a certain hefty part of his body is traitorously enthusiastic to the sight of her on the throne. "What?" Loki asks, daring her to repeat her command.

She glares. "You heard me. You told me last time that _I_ was in charge. Well, now I call upon you to _prove_ it, Loki of Asgard. And you will address me _properly_. Or-" she pauses for dramatic effect. "send me home, and you will go wanting. Decide, and quickly."

Star steeples her hands and does her best to look utterly bored.

For the first time in ages-eons-he's speechless. People do _not_ defy him. Oh the bluster of other super-beings doesn't count, not in this context. His pet, his luscious little Star is sitting there in her gloriously nude self and waiting for him to do her bidding.

It's outrageous, and dangerous, and . . . and . . . arousing.

This is a woman he could obliterate with a snap of his fingers, and yet his betraying lust is surging forth at her hard tone. Loki finds himself uncertainly sitting up and staring at her.

She permits a second or two to pass, then sighs theatrically. Star wishes she knew how to snap her fingers, as she would try that, snapping them and pointing to the cushion again. But she can't, so reluctantly she moves to threats. "How disappointing." She rises to her feet, and then in her best 'I-am-Goddess-Hear-Me-Roar' voice, she commands the ghostly hands: "Bring me my garments! I see I shall be leaving shortly." It's all a sham, of course; she can't get out of Loki's magical pied-à-terre without his cooperation. But she thinks - hopes- he will capitulate soon. His obvious desire practically screams it.

"No," Loki manages in a rough, unbelieving whisper. He's on his feet and moving towards her now, arms out uselessly. One of the ghostly hands bumps his shoulder, carrying the newly cleaned garments.

"Better," she says with a hint of approval in her voice. She waves the ghostly servant away and sits back down on the throne, crossing her legs. Then she raises a brow at him. "Kneel, and address me properly. NOW."

Loki chews his lip. He feels the rush of impatient anger within him, yes, the frustration and hurt are still there, but his pet's tone touches something else deep inside. Something that wants to come forth, despite his petty pride. For a moment he considers defying her and sending her home-without her clothes-but common sense, and yes, some sweeter emotion stops him, and he lifts his chin.

He kneels, gracefully, but keeps his gaze upon her. "How can I address you when you haven't told me what to call you? 'Pet' is hardly appropriate when the . . . leash . . . is in _your_ hand."

She raises the other brow. "You told me you had experience being in this. . .position. Surely you know the usual address for one of my _status_."

He fights a quick snicker, all-too-aware of what terms he might use. "My queen, my mistress, my goddess-which do you prefer, She-who-must-be-obeyed?"

She cocks her head, eyes narrowing. "'Mistress'? Isn't that what you called She Who Brings Grief?"

For a moment Loki falters. "Yes."

She laughs mockingly. "Her? Any common _whore_-" she uses the word deliberately, just to see the look of shock on Loki's face- "can ensnare man or god using magic. But to bind a God to me with _love,_" she leans forward in her chair, dropping her voice to a low purr. "That is true power, do you not agree?"

She strongly hopes that Angr-whatshername is not listening!

After a long pause, Loki takes a deep breath. "What you say is true . . . ."

"So no, I am not your '_mistress_'," she continues, sneering the last word. "Nor am I a goddess, alas...I think that, given you tried to style yourself as king of Midgard and Asgard both, you will address me as 'my queen'. Is that understood?"

Loki holds her gaze, a thousand emotions roiling through him: anger, lust, fear and tying it all in a knot, pride. _So beautiful_, he thinks. He dips his head briefly. "Yes, my queen."

"I adore how my title sounds, rolling off your renowned silver tongue." Again she silently curses her inability to snap her fingers. "Here," she orders, pointing to the cushion next to the throne. HER throne, for now.

Loki moves, not hurrying, his limbs unfolding and refolding as he shifts to the indicated position. It's mildly uncomfortable given his bruises, but he's too fascinated to argue for the moment, wondering exactly what his pet-his queen-has in mind.

It dawns on him too, that he's so caught up that his restlessness has abated somewhat. Quietly he kneels, waiting for instruction, hands crossed behind him, body straight.

She reaches out, letting her fingers caress his hair, threading gently through the still-damp waves. "We need a name for _you_, do we not?" She half-closes her eyes, pretending to consider as she continues to stroke his head almost absently.

"Kinglet? Princeling?" she muses out loud. "No, I do not like any of those...ah, I have it! You are my ice prince. _Mine_. Remember that."

Loki says nothing, fighting an urge to shift. The hand on his head is light and the touch gentle; he savors it, although admitting that would be a sign of weakness. Instead, he makes a small sound deep in his throat, not quite an agreement to her terms, a small hint of defiance.

He's resisting, but Star chooses to let it go. This time. "Tell me, my ice prince, all about your recent victory." She presses her fingertips harder into his thick jet hair, massaging his scalp in slow circles. "I want to hear about your strength and cunning. Let me know that I chose well in making you _mine._" He's trembling ever so slightly, she can feel it. Whatever is eating him, he needs to let it go. Let it _all _go.

"Borovalla was cunning, but not cunning enough," Loki begins slowly. He tells about the bargain, and about the king's betrayal, how Loki had to fight him and his bodyguards to escape with the three powerful pieces he'd sought. It's a good tale, embellished in all the right places, and Loki feels better for having told it.

He also feels better for the soothing touch through his hair, gentle and caring. Touch has never been easy for Loki, who lacks Thor's easygoing way with bear hugs and embraces. Still, he savors it, longs for it and from his pet, luxuriates in it. Her fingers are strong and light, her caresses deliberate.

Loki wonders if he is part cat, and if his purring is audible.

She smirks as Loki leans ever-so-slightly into her touch. "Strong, brave, intelligent. Yes, I chose well indeed." She can almost feel him preening at her words. Star allows her fingers to slide down, caressing and massaging the back of his neck. She leans a little towards him. "And now tell me, my ice prince, what did you initially plan for us to do together, when you brought me here today?" She hopes he gives her some ideas on what to do next - there's a reason she usually plays the sub; being a Dom is hard work!

"I had thought to use the fire stone," Loki murmurs. "From the staff. It has . . . many capacities. Heat. Cold. Pointed edges. I was going to make you stand while I ran it over your body, and offer you a choice. The more intense the sensation you could take, the more I would pleasure you afterwards, my queen."

The image makes her quiver deep inside and her nipples stiffen. _Damn_. . .too bad it does not mesh well with their current positions of power. Maybe she can make use of his idea somehow later. "An intriguing plan. Perhaps another time, my ice prince. For now, regale me with what manner of things you would like me to do to _you_." The beauty of him, totally submissive and subservient to her will, takes her breath away. She presses her fingers a little more firmly against the back of his neck, then trails them around to the front to lightly stroke the backs of her fingers down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows convulsively. "Speak," she commands when he hesitates, though her tone is milder this time, tender.

"Perhaps for my insolence I deserve to be . . . reprimanded?" Loki suggests quietly. He shoots a glance towards the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and continues, his tone lower. "Should my queen choose, there _is_ the soft leather flog of my youth among my belongings. It cannot cut, but stings quite effectively, as I recall."

Odin had used it exactly twice on him, Loki recalls. Neither occasion hurt; it was meant to humiliate rather than wound. Later, when She Who Brings Grief had used it, Loki had found the sensation intensely satisfying. She hadn't hurt him either, but the heat of his welts had left him feeling charged with rough lust, and let him escape his own fears for a little while. He would never admit that the stripes they left were private badges of a sort; kisses of a sweet, strange type.

She nods slowly. "Yes, go and fetch it now. I will make use of it in due time." Good, because she was wondering how exactly she's supposed to punish a _god_, especially when superheroes like Captain America had barely left a mark on Loki's skin. Her fingers would fall off long before he'd feel anything, she's quite certain! A flogger created by other gods will serve much better - and spare her poor hand.

Star watches Loki's every motion as he goes to retrieve the instrument of his discipline. She has always admired the grace with which he moves. She thinks she would know him anywhere, even while wearing other forms, just by his gait and the ease of his movements.

She motions him to a stop in front of her and holds her hand out for the flogger. Star turns it over and examines it, deliberately slow as he fidgets. She points to the floor. "Kneel," Star demands, pretending to keep her full attention on the flogger. The tooling of the black and red leathers twisting around the handle is exquisite, and the tails, also of scarlet and jet, are very soft. She strokes them, well aware of Loki's eyes following the motion of her fingers.

"For now, though-" She reaches for the bottle of silene oil, left sitting on the floor beside the throne. Star turns it around and around in her hands, the flogger left draped across her lap. "Tell me, my prince of stone and snow, is this oil meant to be applied..._all over_ one's body?" She looks very deliberately at his rigid prick.

She can feel a mild tingle in her own flesh, where the oil had transferred from his skin to hers as she'd massaged him. And Loki - poor him! - has only had the oil applied to half of his body. That will have to be corrected.

Loki wishes he could stop staring, but the memory of what that flogger feels like is bringing back several strong responses. Those, and the sight of his pet, lounging nude on the throne is riveting. He tries very hard not to lick his lips before speaking. "Um, yes. Yes, my queen," he corrects himself hurriedly.

She smirks at his swift adjustment. "My clever Loki." She holds the bottle out to him, "Apply this to all the spots I neglected before. Slowly and thoroughly. And when you are done, you will apply the oil to _me_." She settles back in the throne, still idly stroking the tails of the whip, putting a finger to her lips and watching him intently.

He takes the bottle and holds it a moment before speaking. "As I am, or should I stand?" Loki keeps his question mostly polite, but there is a little taunt to his words. After all, his pet might appreciate a little of her own back at her.

She tilts her head and considers. "Kneeling suits you for now. I have no desire to injure my neck, craning it to watch you." Star gifts him with a half-smile. "Now begin."

Loki starts, pouring a palm-full of oil and rubbing it in both hands. Carefully he strokes each hip, acutely aware of his pet's intense gaze. The scrutiny unnerves him slightly; while he has the body of a god, it's not an Asgardian physique as such. His mother once compared him to a shard of stone, or a stalactite-long and dangerous. He liked the description, and after finding out his true heritage, it certainly seemed apt. But in Star's eyes, is that enough?

Carefully Loki strokes his hands down his thighs, already feeling the tingle of the silene seeping into his skin, making it much more receptive to the small drafts through the room.

"How fortunate I am - strong, brave, intelligent, _and _beautiful," she muses out loud. "Truly a worthy playmate for any queen." She gives him a salacious grin. "Continue."

"As my queen wishes," Loki murmurs, lowering his gaze and looking at her through his lashes. He reaches for more oil, making a show of pouring it and with a smirk, he runs his hands down his backside, flexing a bit and feeling only *slightly* foolish. The oil slickens his skin and he feels it trickle in . . . interesting places even as his hands caress his muscles.

She has to stifle a giggle; she already DID his backside! Maybe lust is clouding his memory. "Don't forget that well-toned chest of yours," Star purrs suggestively. "Would be a shame to leave it out." She licks her lips slowly.

Loki gives her another flirty glance and lets his hands glide around his hips and up his chest. It's been ages since he's preened like this for anyone, and the last time he'd been in his female form, attempting to learn secrets from a potential ally. This time it's much more intimate, and feels very nice. He lets his palms glide over his flat and firm chest, brushing his nipples lightly. Even so, the jolt of pleasure makes him shiver. Long strokes up his collarbones and neck, then longer ones back down his abdomen to his navel. Nice, but not as nice as when his pet touches him. Loki hopes she will, soon.

Star doesn't miss his reaction to touching his own nipples, and she files that fact away for future use. Changing her mind about her plan - at least for the moment- she beckons him over to her.

Loki moves forward on his knees in a Samurai walk; elegant and alert. He stops just shy of touching her feet, and his gaze falls to the soft little curls between her thighs.

She smirks -oh, he'll have access to her soon enough! - and reaches out to him, brushing light fingertips from his cheek to his throat, then down over a rounded pectoral muscle (making sure to catch her nails on his nipple as she does so - he shivers and makes a low noise), and down his belly. Star pulls her hand back a little and cups it. "Give me some oil, my Loki." She pulls the flogger from her lap and lets it drape over an armrest of the throne, and his eyes follow it.

He obeys with only the slightest of pauses, then nearly drops the bottle as she wraps her hand around his length, massaging the oil into soft, veined skin. Star pumps his shaft slowly, not touching the head, watching the pearly evidence of his lust bead up at the very tip.

Loki tenses, all attention focused on the overwhelming sensation of his pet's hand caressing him. So firm, so deliberate . . . it's difficult to stay still, and he fights his natural instinct to rock into her grip, to rub and let the slickness lead to a deeper stroke. The sensation is amazing and he bites his lips. It has been a long time since their last encounter and his prick is reminding him of that.

"M-my queen," he manages, nostrils flaring.

"My ice prince," she replies with a wicked smile. To draw things out even longer, she requests more oil and switches to massaging the heavy muscles of his thighs again, then around the tops of his knees. Her fingers then trail back up to his groin, pausing to stroke across his balls several times. Star rakes light nails across the tightening, heated skin, and as he shudders and softly moans, she lets her hand slip back up once more. Firm fingers slide the entire length of him this time, then close gently around the soft-and-firm head, rubbing the remaining oil and his fluids into pulsing flesh. "Are you enjoying this?" she inquires softly.

"More that you can imagine, my queen," Loki confesses in a rough purr. "Although if you keep stroking like that, I fear I may lose control of myself." His hands flex, clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tries to still them. The desire to lunge and simply take her rises up in him in a rebellious wave, but Loki chokes it back, curious to see what else his dear pet may attempt.

It's delightful to watch her play, after all.

"Well we can't have that, now can we?" Smiling, Star leans back against the throne once more. "Better start applying the oil to _me_," she orders. She even dares to close her eyes, though that's probably a bad idea, taking her eyes off someone as strong and sneaky as Loki, but she wants to enjoy this as completely as possible.

Loki considers the woman before him, seated and posed languorously, although he can see how quick her breathing is. Yes, his little pet is just as aroused as he is, and it's time to see if he can make her break first. He reaches for one small foot and carefully rests the heel of it on his thigh, making sure it's close to his shaft before he begins to massage. Such a dainty appendage, and by the feel of it, very sensitive. Loki concentrates, working his long fingers along the ball of the foot, around the arch, and even between her toes. From the chair he hears his pet groan a bit, and shift herself.

He is . . .very good at this, she decides, allowing a low pleasured moan to escape her lips. Perhaps she should order him around more often. Star cracks an eye slightly open, noticing how close her toes are to a certain someone's lusty appendage. She can't resist stroking her big toe against it. Prehensile toes do come in handy at times.

The little stroke makes him suppress a growl, and Loki gently reaches for the other foot, hoping to distract Star from this new game. It's fascinating to realize how . . . competitive they are, he notes. How much pleasure comes from the fact that each of them wants the other to enjoy their time together. Loki smiles up at her and rubs his palms over the other foot. "The view of you from here is . . . wonderful."

He has forgotten to address her properly. "'My queen'," she corrects him, but gently. She's feeling generous at the moment. "That's _nothing_. Finish with my legs, and I'll give you a _view_," she purr-growls. Foot massages are lovely and all, but she does have other body parts she would enjoy having him attend to sometime this century!

Loki grins to himself; it's apparent that his touch is definitely stirring up her lust and impatience. With care he leans forward and deftly applies the silene up her calves and shins, smoothing it in little circles around her knees and then along the sleek muscles of her thighs. Memories of them wrapped around his hips makes him stiffer, and Loki finds himself stroking the oil more quickly now, savoring the heat of her skin under his hands. He's careful, though, and manages to brush the tips of his fingers along the insides of her thighs, barely grazing the soft fluff between them.

Control is even more difficult now, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep focused.

"We'll save the best bits for last, shall we?" she asserts slyly. She motions him towards her torso. "You may continue with my neck." She taps her fingernails on the armrest of the throne, clearly waiting for him to obey.

Loki rises; no easy task without hands, and moves behind the throne, trying not to press his shaft against it too firmly-stone is cold-as he reaches down to brush her hair from her throat.

_So small, so delicate,_ he thinks and slips a hand to stroke the back of his knuckles against her skin. One grip could almost encircle his pet's throat, and Loki finds it useful to know as thoughts of a particular piece of ownership spring to mind. However, he begins a slow caress, one hand on either side of her, fingers toying with her pulse points. The urge to lean down and nip strikes him, but he refrains, keeping the idea in mind for another time. A point when HE has the throne again . . .

For the moment Loki concentrates on being a good servant. A perfect servant.

A tease.

She LOVES neck-rubs, and Loki is giving a very skilled one, and the warming effect of the oil doesn't harm, either. She purrs low in her throat like the kitten he likes to call her, relaxing under his long fingers.

_Too_ relaxed, almost. He keeps working on her neck much longer than she expects, and she rolls her eyes impatiently after some time passes. "A _little_ initiative is not punishable. Unless, of course, that's what you're hoping for," she points out, smirking even though he can't see it.

She brushes his hands away from her neck and leans forward in the throne. "Shoulders and back, too, ice prince." Star picks the flogger up and idly lets the tails hang, spinning the whip with slow circular movements of her wrist.

Loki feels himself stiffen a bit more at the sight of the flogger and obediently shifts his touch to her shoulders, working his thumbs along her spine in careful strokes. Again he's struck by how compact his pet is, and how careful he must be with her. He let his fingers slide against her ribs and feels the curve of her breasts. Loki tickles, lightly.

She jerks away, then snorts and slaps at his hand. "You really do want to be reprimanded, I see. Well, when I am ready, you will feel _this_-" Star snaps the tails of the whip against the side of the throne for emphasis. "When I am ready, and not one second before. You still have a few spots to finish." She rises to her feet in front of the throne and turns away from him. "Get thee behind me," she intones, smirking to herself though she's not sure he'll understand the reference, "and do the rest of my back. Oh, and my butt isn't going to oil itself now, is it?"

Loki hesitates for a moment, taken aback by her tone, and then moves towards her, pouring more oil on his hands. "With your permission," he murmurs and kneels, resting his hands on her hips, running his hands along the little dimples on either side at the base of her spine. He massages the oil in, feeling a little restless now. His palms move over the rounded flare of her bottom, fingers sliding in pretty patterns. The urge to pinch rises . . .

She glances down over her shoulder at him, smirking. "Don't even _think_ about it, Loki." Her skin tingles pleasantly where he just applied the oil, and Star wriggles slightly against his hands. She enjoys the contact regardless - his hands are warm and strong, and seem to know _just_ how to touch her - but the oil is heightening everything, making even the barest brush of skin against skin a sensuous delight. How will even more sensitive parts of her will be affected by the oil? Perhaps it is time to test that.

Without giving him any prior warning she turns, seizes one of his wrists and sits down on the throne again, then places his hand right on her breast, an entirely non-verbal command.

He doesn't miss a beat, caressing the oil gently into both breasts in soft circles. The warming effects of the oil kick in right away, and she squirms deliciously against the cushions on the throne. His fingers continue circling, moving around and around her nipples until Star growls in warning and impatience, and a smirk flits over his face as his palms finally glide over her aching nipples.

Loki squeezes both nipples softly, and she barely restrains her cry of pleasure. She grits her teeth to maintain control as the silene starts to affect her, increasing the sensual ache of her nipples and between her thighs. Star's strongly tempted to just grab him by the back of the neck and pull his head right into her sex . . .but he's not done yet, she reminds herself firmly. Who knows how often - if ever again- she'll have this much power over him? Best to take full advantage.

Star narrowly restrains an impatient writhe as his fingers continue downwards, working the oil into her lower ribs and belly, until finally she can stand it no longer, and she hooks one knee over an armrest of the throne. She isn't quite flexible enough to hook the other knee over the other armrest at the same time, but she trusts she's still giving Loki plenty to look at.

"Ah," he murmurs, gazing at her navel and letting his glance slide lower. "One last section to attend to, my queen." Loki inclines his head and pours the last of the silene into the cup of his palm. Taking his time, he coats his fingers, flexes them, and begins feather-soft strokes from the inside of her knees up inside her thighs. This is the most sensitive area, he knows. The oil will heat and tingle here most of all, and Loki can see that his pet is trying not to wriggle.

He reaches the sensitive crease between thigh and body, letting his fingers drip a little oil there, and then deliberately _traces_ the outline of her labial lips with an almost artistic touch. It demands his full attention, and Loki keeps his gaze on the lush and slick cleft that seems to taunt him. Wanting it has never stopped, and fighting the desire to simply take it is nearly impossible.

Nearly.

She is close to moaning aloud, and emboldened, Loki lets one forefinger circle the little bud peeping out at the top, smiling when his pet shudders with pleasure.

Star bites her lip, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the throne as the sensations break down her meager control. He lets his finger circle her nub again, and this time she can't restrain a whimper.

She should stop him, probably, she really should. He'll use this to turn the tables on her, more than likely. But somehow, she just can't bring herself to order him away.

He _owes _her an orgasm after the way he's acted, Star argues with herself. Decision made, she meets his lustful gaze squarely. "Pleasure me, and I will pleasure _you_, my Loki." She gives the flogger a suggestive shake, a snap with no power behind it, but it's easy to see he understands the message.

Loki smiles; a look of naughty intentions. "Oh yes, my queen-let me _please_ you." He leans forward, fingers still stroking the edges of her lips and lightly parts them before pressing a soft kiss between them, tongue flicking softly.

This he enjoys. The delicate structure of the female sex is both lovely and delicious, and Loki knows how best to tease and tickle, how to pace himself to enjoy the bounty it presents. It's like feasting on a hot, succulent orchid, and he laps up the citrus tang of his pet's lust even as he lightly drives her ever closer to orgasm. Carefully, carefully . . . with a soft wet swirl of his tongue he senses exactly how much pressure to use, and the swell of his own lust pulses to her shudders and soft keening.

Loki lightens the press of his mouth, savoring the taste, and the feel of her hands in his hair. The silene tingles along his cheeks but he doesn't mind; it adds a hint of mint. With a loving slurp, he looks up over the tangle of her at his pet and sighs. "Do you wish another, my queen?"

She pants heavily and blinks down at him, her thoughts fragmented. She should probably say 'No' or 'Later'; she's not sure she'll be able to get her arms and legs to function properly _now_, let alone if he makes her come again . . .but her mouth doesn't cooperate. "Why not?" Star hears herself say. _Why not indeed?_ She strokes his hair lovingly, then wraps her fingers around his jaw and tugs him to her again, even as a leftover shudder ripples through her.

Loki smiles against the curls and moves his mouth to lick the little creases on each of the insides of her thighs. It's important to re-establish sensitivity, he knows, and he lets himself nibble the tender skin along her legs, leaving the glistening cleft alone for a little while. He curls his hands under her thighs and his fingers stroke the outside of her legs, all the time aware of her sweet scent.

It's driving him mad, and the ache in his cock is nearly painful, but Loki knows he can deal with it. His year of training has given him _that_ much, and dimly he's grateful for the ability to focus. Besides, his pet is nothing if not fair, and she _will_ make sure he's pleasured in his turn . . .

At least he hopes so. Gently he moves back to her cleft, and makes it a point to blow a cool breath over the little nub, nosing it ever so gently before taking a lip between his teeth and flicking his tongue along its edge. So ripe, his little Star, so beautifully, erotically female. To pleasure her is the ultimate in a lover's gift, and Loki adores the way she squirms, wanting more of his kisses.

Gently he tips his head and suckles her lips, humming deeply enough to let the vibrations thrum against her skin. She gasps, hands gripping his shoulders now, her fingers digging in. Loki is sure she has said something; probably his name, but he concentrates on sliding his parted lips up and down along the seam of her sex. When he passes over the little bud, he flicks it, lightly, and then circles around it before moving back down those tender labia.

It doesn't take long before his pet gives that sweet little cry and tightens her legs around his shoulders. Loki nearly loses it when she does because that embrace is so very intimate.

She slumps on the throne, utterly spent. Heat radiates from her entire body, and the occasional shiver of pleasure runs down her spine. Her arm feels like a leaden weight when she raises her hand to rake wet strands of hair from her face and the back of her neck. Star gazes down at Loki, who is sitting back on his heels and looking _very_ proud of himself, and she has to restrain an amused sound.

"Ve-" she has to clear her throat twice. "Very good, my ice prince." She tries to shake off her post-orgasm lethargy. "Go and fetch me the vibrator - 'supplanter', I believe you called it last time we played - and go stand by the side of the bed. When you are there, bend over and place your hands on the mattress, and then _wait_."

Loki tries not to pout; he's well-aware of how good he's been up to this point. And speaking of points, his cock is seriously aching now. Slowly he rises from the floor, moves to fetch the toy, and then leans over the mattress, feeling a little wary. Flogging is one thing; being penetrated is quite another.

She pushes herself with much effort up off the throne, the flogger dangling from her hand. She walks carefully over to Loki, ignoring the shakiness in her knees as best she can. He stares mistrustfully at the vibrator as she reaches his side, and Star smiles to herself as she removes the toy from his grip and tosses it onto the foot of the bed.

"I'm tempted to bind you, but now is not the time," she murmurs in a low sultry voice, leaning to speak right into his ear. "Consider it a little test of your self-control." Star smirks as his eyes narrow; clearly he recognizes the very words he spoke to her that first night, before he punished _her_.

"Close your eyes, ice prince," comes her order. His body tenses, but he obeys, if a bit slowly. Smirking, she gently runs the ends of the tails of the flogger from the base of his neck, along his spine, and over the firm curve of his rear.

The sensation sends involuntary chills through him, and Loki bites his lower lip to control his pleasure.

She repeats the motion several times, pausing between each pass, making him wait longer each time. His knuckles are white where they clutch the coverlet. She brushes his hair off his forehead, and then remembers that they haven't kissed since their bath. She grips the hair at the base of his neck and tugs lightly. "Kiss me, my Loki."

He does, eagerly and thoroughly, and after she pulls away from him, she walks around to stand behind him. His stiffened length is nearly purple by now, and Star almost pities him.

She strokes her nails lightly along the curve of his rear for a short time, and then finally allows the flogger to touch him with some actual force, but it's no harder than a gentle slap, the barest flick of her wrist as she lets the leather kiss each cheek.

Loki bites back a grunt; it doesn't hurt, but between the silene and the taste of his pet in his mouth everything is hypersensitive now, and he fears he might climax if he's not careful. The sensation is wonderful, though, and he takes a deep breath, letting himself appreciate how perfect it feels.

Star continues flicking the flogger, aiming each soft blow going further and further down each thigh and back up again. A few hits target his rear again, and then along his back, slowly climbing towards his shoulders. When she runs out of the expanse of his back, she again grasps a handful of hair at the nape of his neck and pulls until he turns his head towards her. She lets her tongue dart around his earlobe, and then she whispers, "I'm going to hit you harder now."

He makes a soft sound in his throat that sounds suspiciously like a moan, and Star smiles as she releases his hair. She resumes raining blows, back the way she has come, from his shoulders down. They remain soft at first but gradual get harder, and she watches his muscles tense and release with each blow, the furs of the bed twisted in the grip of his hands. By the time Star's back to striking his ass, she's using about three-quarters of her strength, and she stays there, repeatedly snapping the tails across his ass and thighs, until his pale skin is reddened and his breathing is hard and erratic.

She stops to trail her fingers over his skin. Not marked, not yet, but she can feel the heat rising off of him. An absolutely wicked idea occurs to her. "Spread your legs like a good slave."

"My qu-queen," Loki stammers, his thoughts hazy. The sweet heat of his skin and the sting of the flogger have put him into the dark, lovely zone, a space of sheer sensation, and it's difficult for him to verbally respond to his pet. Not that she _is_ his pet at the moment, oh no. She has become something much _more_ now. She is very much the queen.

He doesn't seem to understand her, so Star smirks and places a hand on his inner thigh, pushing gently until he opens his legs wider for her. She lets a fingertip run down the underside of his rigid prick, and he gasps, shivering.

She grins darkly as she cups a hand around the base of the flogger's tails, and then presses her hand against his shaft, pulling backward on the handle of the flogger and allowing the soft little strips of leather to caress across the length of him and then along his balls.

Loki gives a greedy whine, the sound escaping before he can stop it as the scent of the leather and the cool feel of it engulf him.

His reaction makes her grin widen. Star hopes the silene oil is increasing his enjoyment. She can certainly feel the extra sensitivity in her own skin; even the few places between her legs where he touched her with the oil still feel tingly and warm . . . she wouldn't object to another climax, that's certain. But not just now . . .

Still, she won't torment him much longer. Star lets the flogger dangle against his leg as she informs him: "Six more blows, ice prince. I will give you back what you gave _me_. But I'm a kind queen; there's no need for you to count for me. And once those six blows are done, you may come." Given his apparent difficulty with speech, she adds: "Nod if you understand me."

He does, and she steps back to give herself room. She lets the flogger fly at full strength, the tails whipping across his rear once, twice . . . Loki makes a strangled noise each time, but she knows him well enough now to recognize them as sounds of pleasure. Another two strikes, and faint, raised welts appear on the toned curves of his rear. That's enough damage as far as she's concerned - she's a wimp about those things.

Star strokes her fingers gently over the welts, and he shudders and utters a low moan. She shifts until she can see his face, and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut, long damp locks of hair hanging around his face.

Perfect; he can't see what she's about to do.

Loki is expecting another two hits, but instead she drops the flogger on the bed and scoops up the vibrator. A quick dart of her tongue moistens the tip, and then she turns it to a moderate speed, sliding it between the firm rounds of his rear. She doesn't press it inside him, just against the tender tangle of nerves around that entrance to his body. He makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a yelp, and Star wraps her hand around his length and strokes him, quickly and lightly.

"You may come for me now," she croons to him. Star circles the vibrator slightly and speeds up the motion of her hand.

He's lost to sensation, aware of touch, touch, lovely tantalizing, _touch_ and the glorious surge of his seed, the pleasure so intense that his entire body arches as the thick strings of semen erupt from his shaft. Loki rocks against his pet's hand, slowing but no less blissful for that, and his fingers dig into the furs across the bed.

It takes a while to regain some sense of where he is. His body is light now; weightless and loose, so he shifts his weight to one hip and tumbles onto the mattress, avoiding the glistening streaks and managing a sweet smile at Star, who is watching him with a slightly guarded expression.

Now his skin is cooling, damp with a pale sheen. He runs a hand over his scalp and shakes his head, hair swinging around his face. Loki chuckles, looking remarkably boyish.

"_Ma_rvelous," he murmurs, a lanky form sprawled on one side of the mattress. "Oh you _do_ have a deft hand with discipline, don't you, my minx? Then again, I cooperated very well too. Come, lie with me a moment . . ." He motions for her to stretch out with him, still grinning.

Star is still holding the vibrator so she tosses it to the foot of the bed next to the flogger, and allows Loki to draw her down and press her against him.

"Surprised you did I?' she asks, closing her eyes and letting herself slump into his powerful arms.

"Not as much as you have surprised _yourself_, I think," Loki murmurs, kissing her temple. "Perhaps not even for the first time, though I know it's not your preference. Still, it was a rare pleasure to yield to you, and I am grateful for the tryst. It seems to have driven the ill-humour out of me and for that I owe you _much_, delight of my thoughts. Would you like a gift?"

She smiles and looks at him from under her lashes. "D'you mean a third orgasm?" Star pauses, furrowing her brow. "Do gods - male ones- have a refractory period?"

This time Loki actually laughs. "A third I will give you as your _due_, little charmer! I meant something I've hoped to present you with for a while now, and after what you've just given me, I hope you will be pleased. Refractory?"

The ghostly hands are moving about, bringing warm wet cloths and cleaning up the aftermath of the session. Loki senses what his pet means by the amused expression on her face and catches her hand, laying it on his flat stomach. "Ah, the gloating time when males lie in the glow of their prowess. Yes, after a tryst of such intensity I may need a short while to recover my capacity, although I shall not be long. Now to other matters-I repeat, would you accept my gift?"

She can't help a snort of derision. "Who said I was going to let you give me an orgasm? Maybe I'm still in charge, maybe I'll just TAKE it," she grins, poking him gently in the stomach. Then it hits her - "You mean, my collar?" It seems odd to her that he would offer it now, just after _she_ has been the one in the dominant position. But it's obviously his decision.

"Of course I'll accept it," she says, trying to conceal her impatience. "I've waited for it long enough. Just as long as I don't have to _move_. I always forget how draining it can be, playing the Dom."

"If you remember that, then perhaps you'll have more compassion for me when you are under my hand again," Loki chides her. "And it is not _your_ collar just yet." With cat speed Loki pulls his pet closer and rolls, pinning her with his body, hands pulling her arms up. He lets the ghostly hands grip her wrists and hold her down.

"My animals are the wolf and serpent," he reminds her. "Emblematic of ruthlessness and cunning, both of which serve me well. Now that I have your attention . . ."

Loki rises up, knees on either side of Star's hips. He snaps his fingers and a heavy necklace of stone appears in his palm, the green gems clacking softly. Loki dangles it above his pet's face, letting the end of the chain touch her nose. "These bind me to you, and you to me. Stones to spell my name, and stones to signify yours, my luscious little kitten. I thought long and hard about presenting them to you since they are unique. Still, there is no other worthy to wear them."

He holds the strand out, each end in a hand now, the curve displaying the jade green stones to their best advantage. "With this you are mine here in my realm. Do you accept?"

It's beautiful, and not at all what she was expecting. "Would I even be here, otherwise? Of course I accept."

Loki sighs with pleasure and stretches out, careful not to put too much weight on her as he puts the necklace around her delicate throat. The stones click again, and as he reaches to fasten the catch around the back of her neck, he brings his face down, nose brushing her ear.

"I love you," he tells her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Star-Crossed (5/?)**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: July 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Crack!fic; Loki has a thing for 'snares'.**

**Disclaimer: Not ours, and we'll clean him up before we give him back, don't worry. **

**Authors' Note: As usual, starhawk wrote the OFC's POV, and Cincoflex wrote Loki's.**

Her eyes widen. "Wait..._what_?" That's...not possible. The freakin' Norse God of freakin' Mischief did not just say to her- No, she must have misheard him.

Loki pulls up and shifts himself off of her, waving away the ghostly hands and stretching out on the furs. He makes a contented sound and slips an arm around her bare shoulders. "Sleep, my pet. We have time, and I am sated-for the moment."

Star tries to, but she can't. Her body is exhausted, craves sleep, but her brain keeps turning his declaration over and over.

Finally, agitated, she slips free of his grip and paces restlessly the length of Loki's hall. She should not bring this up, should not kick the hornet's nest, especially since he seems so casual about it, but . . . that's not her way, is it? She glances back at the bed, expecting - _hoping_ - that he'll still be asleep, and perhaps that will give her a chance to talk herself out of confronting him.

He is, thankfully. Quietly, Star summons the peach-coloured robe and a hot drink (the ghostly hands bring her mulled wine), then settles herself in front of the fireplace, staring long into the flames.

He surely doesn't mean anything by what he said. His non-reaction to _her_ non-reaction tells her as much. Perhaps the Asgardian equivalent of 'love' is meant to refer to depraved and decadent sex-only relationships like theirs. Perhaps she needs to wait and see what (if anything) happens, instead of trying to actively work out the boundaries of their 'relationship' with him.

Perhaps.

-oo00oo-

Loki wakes quickly, feeling a rare sense of utter relaxation. He takes a moment to assess where he is, and as he does, his smile grows. Carefully he glances to his side, but the warm body that should be there isn't. He looks up around the room to see Star curled up on the thick rug before the fireplace.

Concerned, he rises, stretches, and moves to her, scooping her up as gently as he can. She opens her eyes to blink at him and Loki bends to brush his cheek with hers. "Just because you are my pet does _not_ mean you must sleep on the floor," he chides her quietly, carrying her back to the bed.

She looks as if she wants to say something but Loki lays her down and proceeds to unwrap the robe and drape himself over her, letting skin kiss skin. He brushes his lips to her forehead. "What say you to a meal? I find myself with a need for fuel this morning, and I would be a poor master indeed if I did not offer you the same."

Star makes a cautious noise of agreement and Loki rolls on his back, raising one long arm and waving it in a lordly manner. "We shall dine. Since I am sure you do not want lutefisk and lefse, what shall we have, little kitten?"

Star sighs inwardly. No, her first instinct must have been the right one - he hadn't _meant_ anything by what he'd said. Not that he'd said it to be cruel or confusing to her, either; it had merely been something said in the heat of the moment, likely driven by oxytocin or whatever passed for bonding chemicals in Jotunns. Otherwise she's certain he would have confronted her about her lack of response by now.

"I'd like to think that I'm adventurous enough to try anything once," she replies, smirking at the underlying sexual innuendo. "But I'd at least like to know what those are before agreeing. _No habla Asgardian,_" she points out.

"Meals of northern Midgardians," Loki tells her. "Although I have become fond of cuisine from other places. Thor has often mentioned the waf-fle as a worthy treat, and of course there is . . . _chocolate_." He tries not to purr the sound, but it's difficult. "Such an achievement. I would name_ you_ Chocolate if I could, little toy!"

She snorts. "You start calling me 'my little truffle', I am officially outta here." She pauses to consider. "Waffles could work." She glances automatically at her wrist, but her watch is long gone. "What _time_ is it anyway? The last meal I had at home was breakfast. Two breakfasts in a row is . . . weird. And now that I think about it, I need some protein with said waffle, or I'll be courting a migraine."

"Fish, fowl or beast, the choice is yours," Loki nods. "I too find myself in need of more than grain."

By the time they rise and wander over to the heavy table near the fireplace, the food is there, fragrant and warm. Loki notes his pet's look of surprise and waves expansively. "The Nisse, or little elves have done it. For some reason I have a small tribe that choose to live with me here, and they care for the place very well. Since they are legendary in Midgard they know of that world and consequently its food."

Seeing the startled look on her face, Loki hastens to add, "They have no interest in us or our encounters, my minx-all they prefer is to keep house and hearth, usually when we are gone or asleep. Have no fear; they are not watching."

"If they aren't watching, how do they _know_ we are gone or asleep?" she points out, shaking her head. Then, examining at the generous spread, she decides to let it go. "Never mind me, I'm just jealous. Disembodied hands to do your laundry, elves to do your cooking . . .why couldn't I have been born a Norse God?" she sighs. She begins to load up her plate. "Whoa, real maple syrup? Sweet! The next time you see them, tell Elrond and Legolas they have good taste," she quips to Loki.

Loki looks both puzzled and amused, but he sits and allows the ghostly hands to fill a plate and bring it to him. "I shall tell the gnomes, though I do not think any of them have those names. They are gruff little old men for the most part, barely a foot high if you do not count their red caps. Come, eat and tell me how much you appreciate your collar. It looks very good on you."

And it does. Loki admires the string of stones around Star's throat; the way they gleam in the light. "It does please you, does it not?"

She strokes her fingers across it as she moves to sit next to him. "It's beautiful, thank you." She stretches to kiss him. "I don't think I've ever received a piece of jewelry quite like it before. And it matches my eyes, always a bonus." She grins.

"That it does," Loki agrees. "And I give it to you with my love. I know," he hesitates for a second and continues, "I _know_ you are bound to another, and I struggle to make my peace with that, but here and now, in this dimension and time, _we_ are together."

He feels himself blush, which is embarrassing. To counter it, Loki looks down at his food and concentrates on cutting it up.

The colour rising in his pale cheeks surprises her, even as her heart flutters at his use of _that _word again. _Maybe he _does_ mean it. Shit, what do I do?_ She puts a hand on his arm, stilling him. "I appreciate that you care for me. I wouldn't want to 'play' with you if you didn't," she says carefully. It's much like walking through a minefield; she does not want to say anything that hurts him. Or worse, angers him. "But please, Loki, try to understand - you can't possibly love me," she says as gently as she can, squeezing his arm.

He looks up, surprised. "I _cannot?_ Why?"

"Because you hardly know me. How _could_ you? We've only been together what- three times? And you've really only seen me in this context. I have, as you know all too well, a whole other life. You know next to nothing about who or how I am . . . back on Midgard." Star almost says 'back _home_', but stops herself just in time. He might take that as her being dismissive of . . . whatever this is.

"I did not realize that such . . . background mattered," Loki tells her slowly. "When we are here, we are_ here_. I am learning about you and you are learning about me. Beyond what we share, we lead our _own_ lives, pet. I do not lay claim to you on Midgard, and you do not lay claim to me in any of the Nine Realms. If it pains you to hear me say it, I will refrain from doing so, but it remains the truth."

Star sits back, rubbing at her forehead with a sigh. "It doesn't _pain_ me. It's just . . . complicated, OK? I was raised to think there was only one God, and my only relationship with that God was a couple times a year, I had to sit in a congregation and be bored out of my mind, listening to things which were not personally relevant. And if I ever tried to pray, if I was ever in that much pain that I really needed to feel that some higher being could or would help me, well . . . nobody ever seemed to be listening." She closes her eyes, trying to remember everything she was thinking last night, alone in front of the fire.

"But everything I was taught is wrong. _You're_ real, and you're here...and _you _hear me. But I'm split down the middle. Am I betraying my husband and family by being with you? I don't know. You're a god, not a human. Maybe the same rules don't apply." Her fingers brush across the necklace, tracing around the edges of each stone.

"But even if this is some kind of betrayal," she continues, her voice just above a whisper. "I . . . don't want to give up either of my 'lives'. I love my family, but I also don't want to end . . . whatever this is." She shakes her head and opens her eyes, but she stares into her plate, too anxious to look over at Loki. "I'm probably not making any sense at all."

Loki gives her a thoughtful look. "Perhaps not, but I am not forcing you to make a choice, my pet. Whatever conflict you feel is your own, and while I do not wish to distress you, I cannot choose_ for_ you either. Here you are mine; everywhere else you are your own. More sausage?"

Star sighs and shakes her head. "Look, I guess I just don't know if I feel free to love you back, OK? Even if we ignore the fact of my other life, is it 'safe' for me to love you? You're capricious - legendarily so - and today you may love me, but tomorrow you may be _bored_. And I don't know how many other pets you are . . .uh, keeping, besides me." She bites her lip.

"I am not _safe_ to love," Loki acknowledges slowly, "but that is true of gods and humans throughout the pantheons. I won't deny the risk, little one, and I assumed you knew it before we started. If you are regretting your choice tell me now and I will make sure you return to Midgard as you left it. I can even take the memories of our time together out of your thoughts, if that is your wish. As for other pets . . ." he shakes his head, a wry smirk crossing his solemn features, "While you compliment my lust, I fear you are mistaken as to my capacity. One-_you_-are more than sufficient for my dark desires, little kitten."

She feels an answering smirk on her own lips. "Damn straight I am," she agrees. Star leans against his side. "Yes, it's a risk to love anyone. And I don't regret what we're doing - even though I probably _should_. But . . . in my experience, when someone tells you they love you, they usually expect you to feel the same. And I guess I didn't expect it to hear it from you so . . . _early_." She grimaces. "I was raised not to have sex before marriage, and while I was dating, if a guy told me he loved me this early on in a relationship, it was usually just a ploy to try to get into my pants. Though that obviously does not apply to this situation! Technically I wasn't even _wearing_ pants the first time," she observes with a chuckle.

"And I was raised to deal with others honestly, although that is a folly I overcame at an early age myself," Loki murmurs through a mouthful of waffle. "However, I have found that in matters intimate, it is safer to be bold than not, and making one's intentions clear is fairest to all concerned. If you wish to proclaim your feelings for me I will not object, but I do not _require_ it. Your every glance and action say it to me whether you realize it or not, Star of mine."

"You realize how ironic that sounds, coming from the Norse god of lies, right?" she shakes her head. "But I don't disagree, at least in principle. If you don't mind giving me more time to . . . sort out my feelings, then that's acceptable to me. And now that we understand each other better, please feel free to say whatever you're feeling; you don't need to hold back." Star stretches up to kiss him gently on the lips. "Pass me that sausage after all? I imagine I'll get to have your 'personal sausage' at some date in the near future, won't I?" She grins lasciviously.

Loki arches an eyebrow even as he smiles indulgently. "Both spirit and flesh are already eager for that. In fact-" He grips her wrist and pulls her up onto the table, upsetting a few of the dishes even as her pert ass plonks into his plate. "I find myself hungry for something more than _these_ offerings~"

She bursts into giggles. "Am I to be the dessert course, my Lord?"

Loki doesn't give a spoken answer, and instead peels off the robe, flinging it over his shoulder as he bends to press his mouth to the soft join of her neck and shoulder. His hands busy themselves in sliding around her waist, holding her in place as he lets his teeth ever so lightly nip her skin.

She jumps a little and gasps. "You don't have to actually _eat _me, you know," she says jokingly, and cards the fingers of one hand through his hair. Her other arm wraps around him, pressing fingertips into skin and muscle. He doesn't look it, willowy and lanky as he is, but when touched he is decidedly _solid_.

The warmth of his pet's skin is intoxicating, and Loki spends time tasking the delicate curve along the side of her throat. Revived and refreshed, he feels a sense of desire mingled with impish good humor. "I thought you liked it when I devour you . . . intimately. I seem to recall a good deal of moaning and joyous cries. Surely that wasn't all for _show_ now, was it?" he teases, letting his hands slide up under the sensitive area below her breasts. Loki's fingertips float over her skin, tickling the gooseflesh there.

"For the record, you're the one who's seated me on a _plate_," she points out, giggling and wriggling. "But no, you're quite correct- I. LOVE. IT." Star allows both her hands to slide down and cup his rear, digging the nails into his skin, and then she wraps her legs tightly around his thighs, silently urging him on.

Loki gives a little growl, feeling his shaft nudge its way along the fur of her cleft, thick and getting stiffer. He slides a hand up to cradle the back of her head, very gently directing her attention downward, to where their bodies are touching. He slides the other hand down, letting his fingers trail down her stomach until they brush those little curls stroking his prick.

"A good dessert is all about presentation," he whispers, and gripping himself, angles his shaft until the damp head rubs in the lightest of touches against her nub. Star shivers and Loki fights a little groan of his own. The sight of their bodies, naked and aroused is beautifully alluring, and this teasing kiss is only the beginning.

Her legs tense around him as he teases her. "Presentation?" she asks with a gasp. She wriggles closer, trying to increase the friction, and scratches her nails across his skin. Not hard enough to leave marks, if that is even possible, but enough that he'll _feel_ it. "Well, research has shown," she proclaims in her best professorial tone, "that the colour and size of plates can affect one's perception of . . . _flavour_."

With a shift of his hips Loki angles his thick cock upward so that its underside is sliding against her and stroking her little bud like a bow against taut strings of an instrument. "I think you'll find my _size_ whets your appetite nicely," he manages, his hand curling around her hip to pull her even closer. Their bodies sandwich his erection and the wet slide of it, hot and throbbing is enough to make him draw in a shuddery breath of appreciation. She squirms, her firm nipples brushing his chest as she does so.

She tries to shift, to reach down between them but Loki holds her tightly, and the quickening slick of her arousal makes his cock glide along her wet lips, each brush on her clit bringing shivers. For a while he holds her to that, and then pulls back, reaches down and guides the head, letting it push fractionally into her.

"We must _watch_ ourselves," he instructs, voice deeper, thick with desire. With infinite slowness, Loki slides himself further in, the stroke deliberate. As he does so, he shifts his hand to let the ball of his thumb circle around her nub.

His pet gives a low cry, thighs tightening around him, fingers scrabbling along his back. This is good, and Loki takes a breath, striving for the power he needs to keep control. The slow rhythm begins, deep thrust into her, little circles of his thumb, slow withdrawal, little circles of his thumb. And through it all, he watches, fascinated at how her body takes his, how perfectly he fits into the glistening wet cleft. It's raw and beautiful, primitive and rich in sensuality, this vision of his beauty being deliberately mounted, her pleasure so slick and obvious that it thrills him.

Still, his own pleasure rises within him, and Loki knows this because the strokes become deeper. He shifts, slipping his arms under the backs of her knees, bringing the angle to a sharper incline and the glitter of her beautiful pussy makes him groan. He leans over her, thrusts harder now, the cutlery and china rattling on the table. With care, Loki manages to catch that delicate bud between finger and thumb, and lightly, very, very gently, rubs it between them, the pads slippery with her lust.

His pet spasms, her hips rocking up hard now, eyes closed and head thrown back, and the slick wet pulses of her climax milk him hard. Loki arches into her, pleasure surging forth in hot gushes leaving him clawing at the tablecloth, his long hair falling down around his face. He opens his eyes when Star reaches up, pulling his face to hers, kissing him deeply.

"Oh. My. God. Of. Mischief," Star purrs, a deep kiss interspersed between each word. She clings tightly to his body, stroking every inch of his skin that she can reach. She's almost too satisfied to move, though if she knows _him_, they aren't done. Not even close. "That was certainly a . . . tasty dessert. And it won't even go to my hips!" she quips.

"Only between them," Loki replies, shaking his hair out of his eyes and smirking.

A short while later, freshly bathed and dressed, Loki leads her to the chest that held the flogger. He drops to one knee and opens it, revealing a neatly organized collection of items. On the very top is the bag from Très Méchante, and Loki plucks it up, trying to look lofty and almost succeeding.

"Uh-oh, you're up to no good," Star observes. She remembers all of the items they'd purchased at that shop, her muscles clenching at the memory. Never mind what he'd done to her afterwards. "I'm happy to use your flogger on _you_ again," she suggests, hoping to curtail any too-evil plans of his. "Or, I'm partial to flogging myself, though I don't know if something made by gods might shred _me _into cat food."

"Gods do not . . . _play_ quite as we do, pet," Loki tells her blithely. "For all of their feasting and fighting, I have found that most of Asgard have little sensual imagination behind closed doors. I made the mistake of mentioning a certain proclivity to my brother once, and managed to shock him for a few days. He sincerely had no idea that restraints could be erotic and that makes me pity his future partners."

"Thor is that vanilla? Not really surprised, I guess. Mind you, I don't think it's much different back on Earth in terms of 'sensual imagination'. I made the mistake of telling a few friends I wrote erotica as a hobby . . . it didn't go over well." Star snorts. "But turn on the TV or go to a movie, and it's all violence. Guns are OK, killing people is OK . . . while _making love_ is x-rated and censored? Whole planet's priorities are backwards, if you ask me. Though I'm biased, I'll admit." She shifts closer to Loki and reaches to stroke the back of his neck.

"Not biased as much as preferential," he agrees. "Although the form we have makes mating and all its options much more pleasurable than that of the lesser animals. We have the capacity for lust _and_ imagination, so infinite variety is open to us. You and I are mindful of that, and choose to explore . . . play . . . with our appetites, unlike my brother and his warriors who sate themselves quickly and with no creativity." Waving a hand Loki dismisses the thought and rises, the bag in his hands.

She turns and watches him, slightly wary. She trusts him more strongly than before, but she also remembers what's in that bag. Trying to lessen some of the maddening suspense, she hangs back and asks: "And what are we to _play _with now, my Prince?"

Perhaps he only intends to dress her in one of the lacy new outfits he purchased for her? The thought of being on display, the subject of his admiring gaze, makes her shiver with delight, and she strokes her fingers almost absently across the jade stones around her throat.

He cocks his head and slowly walks around her, letting his glance take in his entire pet

as he assesses her anew, and when Loki comes back to face her, he crosses his hands behind his back.

"It's my turn to choose a toy, little pet, and your turn to choose your wardrobe. I know what I want to play with, so you need to find your outfit. Once you have it on, come kneel before me at my seat." It's an easy order, quietly given in his deepest, gentlest tone.

Loki strides to his throne and settles himself into it, waiting.

Star swallows hard and rifles through the bag. There's the full-body lace suit, hmmm. No, she decides on the metallic green merry widow corset and matching panties; they'll go best with her new collar. She turns her back on Loki, slips out of her robe and pulls the items on, her skin prickling as his lustful stare burns into her back.

She wonders if Loki would appreciate stockings, garters, and high-heeled shoes as well. Possibly she should look into getting some once she gets back topside, so to speak.

After a couple deep breaths, Star turns and walks towards Loki, then goes carefully onto her knees in front of him, eyes lowered in her best imitation of 'proper, demure little pet'.

Loki bends down and gently lifts her chin, making her look up into his face. Holding her gaze he asks her in a low tone, "I am going to tie you up. _Thoroughly_. Can you submit to that my little toy? Not just wrists and ankles to the bedposts, not this time. I do mean completely tied up at my utter _mercy_ until we are through. Think carefully before you answer and if you are trusting and brave it will be the most intense experience of your life."

Star does think, but not for long. She makes her mind up rather quickly, in fact, though she waits an extra moment or three, just for show. This is exactly what she wants and needs. "Yes, my Dark Lord. _Please_." She struggles not to squirm in anticipation. What will he do to her once she's helpless? She can hardly wait to see...

"Oh I _like_ that," Loki sighs, his fingers caressing her chin. "You are such a good, good pet. Come, let us begin, you beautiful kitten . . ."

Star has too well-developed an erotic imagination, and her thoughts are awhirl, wondering what he'll do. A rope dress, wrapped all around her? Or something similar to before, wrists and ankles bound, but now he'll also bind her knees wide apart? Other parts of her as well? Perhaps ropes run carefully between her legs, to tease her? She can already feel arousal tingling and _pulling_ at her.

And . . . which toy will he use, when she is entirely his? She can't help a soft moan as she considers the sensual possibilities.

Loki holds out his hands and between them, in the glittering light concentrated by his palms comes a coil of silver satin rope. It gleams in the light, and when it is fully formed, Loki shifts one hand under to catch it as it drops into his grip. He brings it in close, stroking it with his long and elegant fingers. "Asgardians are warriors, and hunters. The art of the snare is something they _do_ excel in, but sadly, they do not see the possibilities it may hold. Or _who_ it may hold in this case. This particular line is called . . . well, you could not pronounce it, but for our purposes it is ice cord. It can hold many degrees of chill, or stay just at one's temperature. All of that is subject to my whim."

_Oh. My. God._ Yes, definitely too much erotic imagination. She shifts from foot to foot and bites her lip as she ponders the possibilities. "That sounds very . . . intriguing, my Lord."

"It is, isn't it?" he replies lightly. "Come-touch it, see that it isn't frightening in and of itself." Loki holds out the cord, waiting for his pet to some closer and run a finger on its smooth surface. When she does, he speaks again. "It is woven of iced silk. Against the frost it is nearly invisible, and against the skin a cool reminder to stay still."

She shivers hotly. "Yes, my Prince," she agrees. She wonders impatiently how much longer he is going to sit and expound on the rope's virtues. "Perhaps you would care to demonstrate?" she suggests archly.

His smile grows cool. "Of course."

Loki forms a loop on one end, fingers dancing as he forms an intricate knot. He slips the other end through the loop, and then beckons Star to hold out her left arm. When she does, the cord loops at her wrist, tightening.

"And now," Loki murmurs, "we weave the snare."

It takes nearly half an hour, and the length of cord wraps from her left arm to her right behind her back. The cord crosses in diamonds down her stomach and between her legs, then loops around each knee and knots firmly behind her, holding them open. The ghostly hands are supporting Star now, keeping her suspended in the air as Loki deftly loops the last ends of the cord around her feet, the soles pressed together. He knots the end and steps back to admire his work, pleased and aroused by the sight before him.

His pet, spread and pinned like an emerald butterfly. Her wrists are tied behind her back, loosely enough to be comfortable, but firmly enough to prevent escape. The taut line behind her knees keeps her thighs open and wide for him, and the press of sole to sole completes the design. Loki motions to the hands and they obediently carry her form to the bed, laying her gently there and vanishing.

"_There_ is a vision," Loki tells her admiringly. "So perfectly pinned, little butterfly. Caught in my web with only one way out, and that . . ." he leans over her, hands on her knees, "is to _please_ me."

Star does her best to relax into the bindings. Staying still for him for so long had already been a challenge, but she had managed, breathing deeply and mentally calming any muscles that spasmed in protest. "Tell me how I may do so, my Lord, and I will do it. If I am able," she adds, glancing down at herself. She's so wet already; she can feel it soaking into the pretty lingerie.

Loki nods. "So far you are doing well. Not every butterfly accepts the net. First, we shall see how sensitive you are." He drops one hip on the edge of the bed and skims a hand along her knee, fingers touching the skin. "Can you feel this?"

"Yes, of course, Lord." she purrs.

He touches the closest edge of the cord and instantly chill flares through the entire snare all over his pet's body. Just a few second's worth, but unexpectedly icy.

She gasps, trying to squirm though she can't. It's definitely . . . intriguing in a borderline-uncomfortable way. She can even feel the chill in the rope pressing against her nub through the panties, and her gasp turns into a deep groan.

Loki tut-tuts. "Oh no, it won't be _that_ easy for you," he chides and hooks a finger along the cord going down between her legs. He tugs it over into the crease of her thigh, carelessly letting his fingers brush against her wet panties in the process. "Such a hungry little mouth this is. I feed it and it always wants more, doesn't it?"

She moans softly and bites her lip against a protest. "I want you," she says imploringly. "I want _all _of you that I can have. If that displeases you-" Star shakes her head, not knowing how to complete that thought aloud. "Yes, I hunger for you." She licks her lips and gazes right into his darkened eyes.

"Oh I am not displeased," Loki murmurs, "but we have a toy to test, and I cannot have you sated before we put it through the paces now, can I? Beautiful as your secret garden is, it would be a _shame_ not to see how much more intensely you shall peak."

"As my lord wills," she answers, trying not to whimper. She'd almost forgotten that, the promise of playing with toys. He's going to drive her utterly insane before he's through. It excites and frightens her, and she draws in a deep, trembling breath and exhales slowly.

Loki can see from her wide pupils how aroused Star is; how ready to be led along. He lifts a hand and the bag from Très Méchante appears in it. With a hum, Loki reaches inside and pulls out his selection, staring at it admiringly.

Sleek silver handle of six inches and at the top a pointed wheel glittering like a dangerous snowflake. Loki brings it closer to his face to study it. He blows, making it spin like the pinwheel it is, then waves it like a wand. "This is so perfect. So light, so delicate . . . so irresistible."

She bites her lip again. The pinwheel. She'd been a little uneasy when he selected it back at the store. She knows what it is, how it is used, but she has never had anyone use one on her before. And she's totally helpless; there will be no way to quickly evade if she can't take it.

_Trusting and brave, trusting and brave, _she chants to herself. Then she steels herself and looks up at her beautiful captor.

She doesn't know what he'll do with that, and there's no point frightening herself wondering how sharply those needles will prick, or where he'll choose to apply it.

"I would not know, my Prince. My experience with such a toy is . . . nonexistent."

"A virgin," Loki teases, but his glance is kind. "Very brave of you to admit. That deserves a reward." He bends over her form and kisses her, then lets his tongue trail down her chin and along the underside of her face, then laughs as she gives a sigh.

Star turns her head to keep contact with him, cheek to cheek, goose bumps rising on her skin. She wants to relax totally, to give in, though she finds her eyes searching nervously for the pinwheel. Her binding has left too many very sensitive areas completely exposed to torture. Oh, she's still clothed, but she doubts the thin panties will be any protection. Even her breasts, protected behind a bit more fabric, will be easily urged out from the bra cups, should Loki so choose. Her wrists and ankles tug experimentally against the ropes, but they do not yield even slightly. Caught in a web, with a merciless, hungry spider . . .

Loki runs the wheel over his palm. "The points are blunted, pet. Nothing will pierce you except me." He spins the wand in one hand, amused at his own joke and flicks the wheel so it spins again. With care Loki drags it along her shin between the crossed cords.

Star tenses, but it isn't bad at all. She furrows her brow as she tries to label the feeling. It's not prickly, tickly, or tingly . . . more like all three at once. She relaxes, but just a little. That was, after all, just her shin. Not precisely an erogenous or very sensitive zone, comparatively speaking. "That wasn't too bad," she agrees cautiously. "But by 'piercing', I hope you mean with your one-eyed trouser serpent," she dares to quip, shooting a glance in the direction of said body-part.

Loki purses his lips in an effort not to smile, and lifts the wheel up, flicking it with a thumb. "Serpents _are_ one of my specialties," he murmurs, and brings the wheel to race lightly over her insole. Seeing his pet shudder gives him a moment of pleasure, and he tosses the instrument from one hand to the other with the flair of elegant showmanship. "Where next, where next?" he muses aloud. "You are greedy for sensation, and yet on the other hand, you're rather . . . tied up, aren't you? Unable to do anything except _endure_ my little . . ." Loki touches the tip of the wheel so it slips between her big toe and the others in a quick move, ". . . caresses."

Her feet are _very_ ticklish, and Star flinches at his first touch, all her muscles tightening, the bottoms of her feet and toes pressing tightly together. When he runs the wheel between her toes, a kind of laughing gasp escapes her lips. "Yes, my Prince," she agrees softly. It's safer than back-talking him when she's in this compromised position! Breathing deep, she makes an effort to relax again; there's no knowing how long he'll keep her pinned like this.

Loki notes her reaction and his dimples deepen. "Sooo agreeable! Let us play, minx."

He moves onto the bed, kneeling near one thigh, gazing over her tied body like a chef contemplating where to start. Carefully, Loki leans down, running the wheel over her hipbone and along that ticklish stretch between it and the bottom edge of her ribs where the corset begins. The wheel seems to pass through the satin cord, and Loki follows the prickly sensation with his warm breath, watching Star's skin react. A rush of arousal floods him and he bites back a possessive growl, stroking the wheel ever so lightly on the top halves of her breasts, enjoying the way her collarbones stand out when she draws in her breath.

"Ticklish, or tingly?" he demands, bending down to let his lips graze hers.

She tilts her chin up, pressing her lips more firmly against his for a moment. "Uh, both, I guess? It's difficult to describe the sensation." She smirks. "I could try it on _you_ later, and you could decide for yourself." Star squirms, the tingle from the pinwheel's last touch spreading downwards and peaking her nipples, and an answering tingle echoing between her thighs.

"Oh I know the sensation," Loki tells her. "This is the tender version since true pain would be distracting and cruel, particularly when bound." Casually he lifts his chin and his armor shimmers away, leaving him lean and bare except for what appears to be an embroidered loincloth low on his slim hips. Loki preens, giving into a moment of vanity as he watches his pet gaze at him, her pupils dark. "I thought to make myself comfortable."

"Oooh, dinner and a show, lucky me," Star breathes, her voice husky. She licks her lips slowly and eyes him up and down, then leers. "What was that you said about knowing how to pole-dance? I'm sure with a body like that the ladies were all flinging their money - and panties - within about two seconds flat." How she would love to touch him right now, but he's taken that option away from her. His loss.

Loki gives a nod, and his grin goes from sweet to filthy as he does. "I've noticed that anytime I tell my subjects to kneel, the females are _always_ the quickest to do so." With care he touches the wheel against the soft skin just under the bottom edge of the corset, between her navel and bikini line, rolling it in aimless patterns and moving ever closer to her panties. It's the work of a moment to undo the ties at one hip, and Loki uses the flat edge of the wheel to flick the cloth away and reveal the soft fluff underneath.

"And now let us see if you can stand a few tickles _here_," he murmurs, and hums as he rolls the wheel from hipbone to hipbone, barely grazing her skin. Loki notes that his pet is wriggling now, and she's biting her lips. The way her feet are tied mean that not only is her lovely fur exposed, but so are the pink petals of her sex in a brazen display. "You _do _seem to feel that," he chuckles, brushing his hair back.

Star tries to stay still but she can't, she's too sensitive. She gasps, sucking in her abdominal muscles as he continues to tease her, twisting and bucking hard against the ropes before she remembers- they turn suddenly _cold_, colder than before, and she cries out and goes still again. The chill fades immediately and she pants in relief. "Jesus H. Christ," she hisses, shivering.

"You did have to find out the hard way," Loki nods, amused. "It's a challenge yes. And to make it still _more_ difficult-" he snaps his fingers and an etched goblet of ruby red wine appears in one hand. With a flourish, Loki sets it on her stomach. "There. It would be a terrible shame to spill this on your lovely corset now, wouldn't it?"

He watches her gaze grow narrow, sees her struggle not to snap at him, and Loki waggles his tongue at her before delicately running the wheel through the curls on her mound.

She clenches her teeth so hard she thinks they might crack into thousands of shards, whimpering but somehow managing to stay still – or still enough not to topple the wine, rather. When he pulls the wheel away she groans "Fuck _me_," and it's a complaint, not an invitation. She knows this game, oh yes: Stack the deck against the sub so that it's practically a given that she'll fail and thus 'deserve' to be punished.

Star squeezes her stomach muscles tight, steeling herself. She's not at all eager to find out what punishment Loki might have in store for her this time, so she'll try as hard as she can to stay still and not react, for as long as she can. Which she suspects won't be for long at all, damn him to hell.

_I need a distraction,_ she thinks frantically. Something else to focus her attention on. Aha, she's got it! "Parts of the human brain," she begins, speaking calmly, fixing her gaze on Loki so he can't take her by surprise, hopefully. "Medial forebrain bundle...Globus pallidus...Substantia nigra...Nucleus accumbens...Ventral tegmental area...Superior temporal gyrus...Prefrontal cortex..."

He laughs; of _course_ his pet would have some counter to his move, and the fact that she's doing so delights him. _Worthy, yes, she is_, Loki thinks fondly, and shifts so he's looking up the length of her bound form, his knees almost against her shins. The view is utterly beautiful to his way of thinking, seeing his Star spread and bound like this. He stretches up and flips the wand in a dance around the fingers of his hand, then races it up the inside of one thigh, lightly skittering it over her cleft and down the inside of the other thigh.

Oh those shudders! The wine glass vibrates and Loki hears his pet stammer through her recitation as her knees flex, trying to close against the rope holding them.

The bindings turn to woven icicles again and Star gasps, but she knows what to do and forces her legs to go lax, the rope immediately losing its icy bite._ I've got your number, asshole, _she thinks viciously at the rope. By some miracle the wineglass is still vertical, so that must mean she's doing something right. So, keeping her gaze on Loki's elegant yet sneaky hands and the instrument of his _challenge_, she resumes naming off brain areas. "Lateral hypothalamus...Cerebellum...Ventromedial hypothalamus...Wernicke's area... Broca's area...Occipital lobe…"

Loki hums, turning the wheel so it slides the blunt points across the tender flesh just inside one knee. He notes the glass is still standing, but its contents are vibrating a bit. And the scent of his pet is stronger now-the musk of tension and arousal an enticing perfume to his nose. He lowers himself and casually licks her thigh, leaving a wet stripe all the way to the crease of her leg and hip.

Not expecting that tactic, she shudders hard, and the wine glass tilts alarmingly but somehow stays up - barely. _Crap, that was _close._ Breathe, breathe. Slowly_. _And don't glare at him, tempting as that is. _She scrabbles to get the brain areas back into _her _brain, but he's thrown her off.

Her taste is addictive, and Loki considers setting the wheel aside all the better to feast on his pet. Bound as she is, the thrill of having her captive and under his lips makes him painfully hard. He flicks a thumb over the wheel, making it spin once more, and eyes the wine, considering. "You are too delicious," he accuses her softly. "I can't tell if I should give you the wine or drink it myself, in a toast to your . . . good behavior. Perhaps a sip from my lips to yours."

He arches over the glass and sucks up a mouthful without moving it; a wicked little image to be sure. Loki lightly rolls over and pads his way around the bed, then leans once again, bringing his face close to his pet's and kisses her.

She kisses him back fiercely, allowing the liquid to slide over her tongue and down her throat. Does this mean she's won? _Yeah, don't count on that,_ she chides herself. He's the God of Mischief, after all. He'll likely drain the cup dry and refill it again and start. all. over. "Thank you, my Lord," she says carefully, keeping her voice soft. Her stomach muscles are starting to ache under the strain of holding still; she has no choice but to relax them slightly, much as she would prefer otherwise.

"A good girl deserves a reward," Loki murmurs and kisses her again, tongue teasing hers in a little tango flavored with burgundy. He does love kissing his pet; she has enough spirit to put herself into it. He breaks away reluctantly and kisses her nose, then looks down the length of her body, sighing with pleasure. "Perhaps kisses_ elsewhere_, alongside the wheel's path," Loki murmurs, and moves to do so.

_It's wonderful to be evil_, he thinks as he stretches out between Star's open knees. The ice cord is no impediment to the rolling wheel, and Loki proceeds to run it in a merry course up and down each thigh, moving through the soft thicket of her mound and advancing closer to the wet rose of her cleft. Only the lightest touches will do against her labial lips, and the reward is her muttered curses and shivers. The half-full wine glass shimmies a little but doesn't tip, so Loki bends to rub his nose against the sweet little almond peeping from between the rosy sides of his pet's sex. "It would be terrible and unfair for me to mount you while you are bound," he growls. "And yet the temptation is so strong, sweet one. You ARE so slick and ready for me."

She isn't listening to him at all, she's too busy watching the wineglass tip over in what seems to her to be agonizingly slow motion. "Oh, fuck," she mutters. That last damned touch against her nub had done it – she'd expected it, and yet she had _still_ been unable to stop bucking upwards. She barely even registers the retaliatory chill of the ropes, too occupied watching the red liquid soak into the bottom edge of her corset and the grey fur underneath her. Well she's in for it now, though part of her is strangely relieved. Now she just has to worry about the ice rope, and whatever 'punishment' Loki deems necessary. Only.

Loki looks up, noticing the roll of the glass off of his pet and to the mattress, the wine splashing on her stomach and seeping into everything else, the red liquid looking rather black in the light. Sighing, he waves and the ghostly hands move in, touching the edges of the stains. The burgundy shifts upward into the hands, staining them red as the wine siphons up and off of the furs. One hand runs a forefinger along Star's stomach, and the wine glides up into it from her bare skin. "Oh dear, very clumsy," Loki murmurs, putting on his best poker face.

She's so responsive, Loki knows. Even a_ hint_ of breath between her legs and his pet can barely keep from wriggling. Rising up, he picks up the glass and holds it out; the hands come and touch the rim, filling the spilled wine back into the bowl of the glass. Loki sips it thoughtfully. "You _did_ try; I will acknowledge the effort, my kitten. Still, the fact is that you moved, and for that, well . . ." he tosses the glass up, letting one ghostly hand catch and carry it away, "Tighter, I think."

Instantly the ice cord contracts, and any slack is gone.

Her first instinct is to panic. She winces and draws in a sharp sobbing breath between her teeth, her head rolling on the pillows in negation, every muscle taut with strain. _This is what you do to people you_ 'love'_?_ she wants to scream at him. She's on the edge of hyperventilating.

_No, don't._ _Close your eyes, and_ breathe. _Relax. Breathe. _At least the wineglass is gone, she doesn't have that challenge weighing on her anymore_. Breathe. It's OK. It's going to be OK. You're OK. You can do this. 'Trusting and brave'..._

She waits a few heartbeats, until her breathing is under control, before speaking. "Forgive me, my prince, that I was not able to please you." Though Star doesn't open her eyes and she doubts her words will move him at all.

Loki hears the quaver in her voice and reaches for the ice cord, hooking a finger under it right at the point it crosses over one prominent hipbone. At his touch it loosens very slightly, and sends a surge of warmth through every coil and length. "Oh but you _have_, sweet minion, you have. Your submission has been the greatest gift to me, and I confess that having you _caged_ like this . . ." he licks his lips, dark eyes glittering. Suddenly Loki surges, dropping himself over her, his body lightly resting on hers, the throb of his shaft pushing hard on the thin fabric of the loincloth between them. It pulses.

"What do you _want_, my pet?" Loki demands. "What do you _need_?"

It's a better reaction than she expects and she dares to open her eyes, letting out a slow breath. But does she dare answer his question truthfully? Star looks up at him from under her eyelashes and pushes her hips up to meet him ever so slightly.

"Well, my Lord," she begins, though her voice cracks and her cheeks burn. "As you may recall, you asked me some time ago, before we first met in person, to relate to you a secret fantasy of mine. I told you that I craved being held immobile while being relentlessly _teased_ in my most tender areas. Though I recall you suggested using Rán's net for that purpose, tangled in your snare as I am, I believe this may serve just as well. If it pleases you," she adds warily.

He doesn't reply as he rocks his own hips down against hers for a moment, savoring the press of muscle to muscle. The wheel is a tricky thing so close to sensitive skin and Loki isn't sure he's in a clear enough mind at the moment to be as careful as he should be with it against her body there. There are _other_ ways to tease, though, and those will suffice without causing pain. In one quick push-up, he lifts his body from hers and smiles, dangerously.

"Relentlessly? That is a dangerous word around me, pet. Still, it is your fantasy."

Star chuffs a quiet laugh. "Perhaps that is exactly _why_ I am asking it of you - I know you have the will to give me what I need." She moistens her dry lips and works to relax her shoulders against the rope. Which reminds her: "I beg you, my Lord Loki, do not use the ice-cord against me. The whole point of the fantasy is to be _able_ to struggle against the ropes if I must . . . not that I can move much at the moment!"

He bites his lower lip and nods. "Perhaps I have been . . . over-zealous in using it," Loki acknowledges. "Not everyone finds their glory in complete immobility. It shall be looser."

The cord slackens a bit, and Loki watches her face, relaxing only when she gives a grateful sigh and nod, shifting herself with more comfort. The allure of her spread thighs draws his gaze down, and Loki arches an eyebrow, lightly humming. "There. Now where were we?"

Star giggles. "I think you were about to _torture _me . . . in the best possible way." She flexes her hands and rolls her shoulders as much as she can, then flexes her feet and knees as well. She's going to be stiff as a board when he finally releases her from bondage, but if she's about to experience one of her longtime fantasies, then it'll be SO worth the momentary pain later.

"It seems only fair," she adds, as Loki continues to make her _wait,_ "that if you indulge one of my fantasies, that I should return the favour. Something for you to consider between the time you send me home, and our next meeting?" she suggests.

"Oh I shall," Loki promises, and gives a whistle. The ghostly hands fly over and begin to massage his pet's shoulders as he leans over her open thighs once more.

Star draws in a deep breath and purrs, relaxing into the ministrations of the hands. "Thank you, my Lord," she says, closing her eyes the better to enjoy the sensations. "Any chance I can rent a few of these servants for my own personal use?" she asks jokingly.

"Shhhhhhh," comes his quiet instruction. "Now it is time to concentrate, my pet."

Loki sits on the bed, sliding his legs under her thighs, lifting her hips so the lovely bound package of her lower body is nearly on his lap. The juxtaposition of skin and cord is nothing short of art, he thinks, and he runs his hands up her thighs, letting his thumbs caress the insides. Keeping his focus directed downward, Loki listens, registers the sighs, moans, and occasional curse as he lets his fingers dance over Star's skin. The tickle of his touch under the cords makes her squirm, and when he rakes his fingers through her curls and tugs the handful gently, her breathing gets very noisy.

From his vantage it's easy to see her arousal; the slickness gleams along the ruffled edges of her sex. He strokes them between fingers and thumb, keeping his touch light and avoiding that little button of sensitivity sitting like a pearl under her mound. Loki hums, writing runes with his touch, playing with her curls, blowing softly now and then to make his pet writhe.

"I want you," he growls gently. "So very much, little cat. To touch you, to play with you thus is making me achingly hard, and I cannot _think_ when all of my attention is here focused on the warm enticement between your legs. You too, are hungry for pleasure, eager to be filled and ridden by the god you serve. Your mouth may protest but your slickness betrays your desire for my tongue and my prick."

Before she can speak he runs his thumb along the tender bridge of skin between her cleft and ass, wetting it with her own juices.

She flinches and gasps, not expecting him to touch her there . . . not that she dislikes it. But something in his voice makes her look up at him, considering. "You know," she says huskily, "I meant this to be torture for me, not for _you_. So if you need me that badly, then take me, now. We can always resume the 'torture' later." She licks her lips. "Although, would you mind removing my corset and panties first? I want to feel your skin on mine. _All _of it."

"And just for the record: You are serving me as much as I serve you. Though _your_ mouth may protest otherwise." She smirks knowingly up at him.

Loki looks as if he wants to argue, but thinks better of it. He shifts to lean over her, and burying his face along the side of her neck, in the warmth of her hair he mutters, "You know me so well and still open your heart to me . . . I do not deserve you, pet."

Star blinks. He is SO capricious. One moment he's cinching her so tight she nearly panics, and yet now he's in a romantic mood. Is _this_ why she can't quite bring herself to love him?

She shakes her head slightly. Thoughts best left for another time. "Horny minds think alike, perhaps?" is what she says aloud, smirking still. She wriggles against him, frustrated at the lack of skin-to-skin contact, and wonders if he would get angry if she ordered the ghostly hands to strip her clothes away at last.

As if reading her mind, Loki does a quick push-up and reaches down to pull her untied panties off through the cords around her hips. He waves them like a prize. "Someday you must use them as a gag on me," he purrs before flinging them over his shoulder. Barely giving her time to giggle, Loki rolls her over and bends to brush her hair from her turned face, making sure she can breathe as her cheek rests against the fur-covered mattress.

"I _accept_ your offer," he tells her, and murmurs something under his breath. The cord vanishes from Star's waist down, as does the corset, which reappears up on the pillows near the headboard.

Star breathes a sigh of relief, and then straightens her knees slowly, grimacing. Yes, her muscles are stiff, exactly as predicted. No matter, no doubt Loki will be distracting her soon enough . . . with her favourite sexual position. So thoughtful of him. She flexes her feet next and looks back over her shoulder at him, eager to feel the friction of his skin on - and _in_ - hers.

Stretching out on top of her, Loki gives a low hiss of approval, his weight mostly on his knees and elbows, but enough of it is spread out to hold Star in place. She's warm, which pleases him, and wriggly, which adds urgency to his lust. He splays one hand down between their bodies, palm sliding slickly down the cleft of her ass to cup the wet fur below. "Miiiine," he whispers into her ear, and rubs gently, working her labia apart. It only takes a moment for Loki to angle himself and let the head of his cock slide in, a slow plunge that makes his stomach tense and his spine arch in pleasure.

Heat. Heat searing him, enveloping his shaft, flooding every pleasure center and making him feel wonderfully savage for the moment. Loki feels his pet's bound hands twisting against his belly and he withdraws slowly, her muscles clenching in an attempt to hold him within her. The feel of her curves pillowing his groin makes him bare his teeth joyfully.

Not to be outdone, Star pushes back against him as much as she can and circles her hips slowly and deliberately, pressing soft flesh into him. "You're mine too_,_" she hisses, her muscles pulsing around him. Loki growls in response, and she wriggles, enjoying the soft brush of the fur underneath her. It tickles her cheek and tantalizes her nipples, but it also makes her greedy for more. "Bet I can make _you _come first," she challenges him, her voice thick with desire. Most likely impossible, but it will sure be amusing to try!

He laughs, but the sound is thick and distracted. "You are SO amusing when you try to give orders."

She laughs back mockingly. "Order? It's a _contest_, Mr. Mischief. Bet I can make you come first, with both hands tied behind my back!" Which of course they are.

Loki strokes into her again, moving deliberately, fighting for discipline even as the pleasure rolls through his body in waves. He bends to nip her neck right at the join of shoulder and throat, above the collar. The move makes his pet buck, and in that moment the little cog of control slips for both of them.

She rocks back and Loki surges forward, their bodies in wet, savage sync, grinding in blind lustful heat. Loki loses himself in the maddening delight, free to drive _hard_ into his pet and her tauntingly bouncy ass. He grunts, trying not to crush her into the mattress but coherent thought is gone, and there is nothing but the animal urge making him stroke deeply into her.

Star has to work so very hard to remember to _squeeze_ tightly around him, breaths forced out of her throat in tearing gasps as Loki thrusts into her over and over. _Don't come, don't come, don't come, WAIT! _She chants to herself, but she's slipping; she feels the spin of heat slowly cresting inside her. She can only tighten around him and clench her fists together and try to arch up just enough off the tickling fur to keep the stimulation on her pulsing clit to a minimum, in a blind bid to delay orgasm if she can.

Then a circuit seems to connect randomly in her lust-fragmented mind. "Come for me, NOW," she growls breathlessly back at him, purely on instinct.

He does, roaring, and Loki feels the staccato shoves of his body on hers drive her mound against the fur coverlet hard enough to bring her over the top as well. Primal joy surges through him as he pins her, fills her, empties himself deep within her.

She shudders; everything fused together by warmth and sweat, such that she can no longer tell where one of them ends and the other begins. "I think," she mutters slowly, her breath heavy in her throat, "that was . . . officially a . . . tie."

Loki laughs between gasps, his long hair tickling her shoulders and neck. "We . . . will have to . . . compete again, at some point." He purrs, resting against her for a moment before lifting himself and moving to untie her hands. "Poor little bound beauty. So fierce even when tied."

Star grimaces as she rolls over, sits up and tries to bring her arms around in front of her. "I don't feel very fierce at the moment. Ow, ow, _ow_." _Goddamned stiff muscles_ . . . she stretches her arms out to her sides and her elbows crack as loud as gunshots.

Within seconds the ghostly hands are rubbing her skin, and Loki accepts a warm wet cloth from yet another, wiping her thighs and his own before rolling to lie next to her, heavy and sated. "A bath and I will work with the hands to put yet another oil onto your skin. This one is good for the joints. I insist; I will not return you to your life in pain, sweet pet."

"Very kind of you, my Lord," she smirks, but she's not paying full attention. He came on her command, did he? That could prove useful later. _He won't see it coming. _She contains her evil laugh and shifts over next to him, cuddling up against his side, draping her arm and leg over him.

"I wish I didn't have to go home," she sighs, burying her face in his shoulder and breathing him in. Leather, musk, sweat. She works to memorize it, maybe that will help her stand the long weeks until she sees him again. _Assuming he doesn't get himself killed or captured by enemies first._ A chill runs up her spine at the thought, and her hand tightens on his lean shoulder, as if she can somehow keep him here, keep him safe.

"I wish it as well, pet, but you have obligations and I have . . . strategies to carry out," Loki sighs. "Much as I trust you-and I DO trust you-it is far better for you to be ignorant of my deeds so to safeguard you and yours. Times like these, however, take the edge off of my loneliness and keep me aware that _some_one waits for my return."

It's not like him to be melancholy in conversation, but this is Star, and she has earned much of his trust. His love too, although Loki senses that is still too tender a subject to discuss at the moment. Still, he feels invigorated and renewed by their sensual interlude.

Keeping his promise they bathe, and for a full hour he rubs her with the clove and ginger salve, working his pet's muscles and joints until she is boneless and nearly asleep.

"I think you missed your calling. If you ever open a spa, I will buy a _season_ pass," she purrs sleepily, snuggling into his arms. She's snoring softly mere seconds later.

Star wakes up alone in the vast bed, but Loki is not far - he's sitting in the golden seat at the foot of the bed, chin on hand, watching her intently. "Time to go," he says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

She thinks she knows exactly how he feels, but she can't change the fact that she has another life, one that she can't let go of. They both have other matters to deal with. The ghostly hands bring her clothes to her, and she dresses slowly, her back to him. When she turns, she jumps in surprise to find him standing _right _there, looming over her. _Sneaky devil-_

He pulls her into his arms, tangling his fingers in her hair and branding her lips with a possessive kiss. "Until next we meet, my lovely hell-cat," he murmurs once they separate, a glimmer of a smile hovering on his mouth.

"I'll be waiting," she agrees.

A blinding flash and she's back on the running trail. She checks her watch automatically, but it seems like only a minute or two has passed in her mortal, usual world. What an amazing trick time travel is.

Sighing, she decides to jog all over again. She'll likely need the stamina for future encounters with Loki. The downside of being involved with a god, she supposes.

Thirty minutes later she's back at home, stripping off her sweat-soaked clothes in preparation for her shower. She glances in the mirror, and then freezes.

_Uh-oh. _She brushes her fingers over the necklace still around her throat. Was she supposed to keep this? Wouldn't it make more sense for her to wear it only while in Loki's realm? By his own words, she doesn't belong to him _here_. Until he comes for her anyway.

She doesn't want to have to lie in answer to any questions about it, so she undoes the clasp and hides it in the very back of her underwear drawer. There.

Crisis averted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Star-Crossed (6/?)**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: Aug 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Wherein Loki displays a fascination with a certain OFC's hind end.**

**Disclaimer: Not ours, sadly. I hope Marvel will consider loaning him out.**

**Authors' Note: You know the routine by now: starhawk wrote the OFC's POV, and Cincoflex wrote Loki's. So why am I still saying it? Call me anal (see what I did there?).**

Star lounges in the waiting area of the spa, trying not to glare.

The staff here is _gorgeous_. Every last one of them. She sighs enviously. She's here because she's heard good things about this place, but honestly . . . she doubts being around so many beautiful people is good for her self-esteem!

A few times a year, she treats herself to a massage, and she decided last week that it was high time. Between managing her daughter and managing the Norse god of mischief and lies, she definitely NEEDS one.

A low, husky voice speaks her name, and Star drops the magazine she is pretending to read.

"That's me," she replies, working hard not to frown at the masseuse she has apparently been assigned. The woman is supermodel-pretty, tall with pale skin and long, thick black hair that looks like she just stepped out of the salon. Star sighs again, inwardly. It's the Stepford Spa, lucky her.

"Please, follow me," the woman says. There's an accent, a musicality to her words that Star can't place though it seems vaguely familiar. The woman's working uniform is white and crisp, and her eyes either green or blue, as far as Star can tell. The masseuse leads her to a locker room and hands her a heavy white robe and some slippers. "You may remove all of your clothes and jewelry and place them here, and then come to room 2B. It is two doors down the hall, to your left." She hands Star the key for a locker.

"Yeah, sure," Star answers, brow furrowing as the woman leaves. Doesn't she usually keep her panties on? She scrunches her brow. It's been too long since her last massage; she can't remember.

_Right, like someone so flat-out beautiful would ever be interested in _molesting _someone as NOT supermodel material, as me. _She smiles at the train of her thoughts and shakes her head, starting to strip.

The masseuse is waiting for her outside Room 2B. When she opens the door, Star sees the room is small and dimly lit, with soft music playing. "Shall we begin?" asks the masseuse.

"Sure. I should probably mention, though, that I'm not into very deep tissue massage." She'd had a boyfriend a long time ago with massage therapy training, and once he had offered her a massage - shiatsu, had it been? - and it had hurt. A _lot_. "Moderate pressure is about my limit."

The masseuse nods and brushes an artfully-fallen raven lock out of her eyes. "Certainly. Please remove your robe and lay down on the table under the sheet, facing down. When you are ready, call for me."

Star nods and steps into the room, closing the door behind her. She piles her robe on the tiny counter, toes off the slippers, and then climbs the small footstool to get onto the table easily. The sheet is warm when she slides under it. _Nice._ She lies down and tries to find a comfortable position for her face in the headrest. There.

"OK!" she calls.

There's the sound of a door opening, then soft footfalls. "Are you comfortable?" the masseuse asks.

"Yes," Star says. She'll be even more comfortable in a few minutes, with any luck.

"Then we shall begin." The sheet is folded down to her shoulder-blades, and there's the sound of a jar being opened. Soon, warm hands are massaging her neck and shoulders, working a rose-scented lotion into her skin.

It's a struggle not to moan out loud. _That would probably give the wrong impression!_

After a few minutes, Star decides that this masseuse is _very_ good. Usually they manage to press too hard in at least one spot and Star has to grit her teeth, but this one is doing a fine job. Star can almost forgive her for being so utterly gorgeous.

The masseuse works on one arm, then the other, and Star lets her thoughts drift, listening to the Asian-themed background music. Then the woman folds the sheet down to her waist and starts on Star's back, strong fingers sliding carefully around each vertebra. Star exhales slowly and tries not to squirm.

Soon the sheet is folded back over her, draping her up to her neck once more. The masseuse shifts around, her soft breaths just audible over the music, and Star can feel the woman moving the sheet again, now folding it over so that her right leg is uncovered.

The masseuse starts with her foot, working the ankle and heel, the sole, the ball, and then pulling gently on each toe. Her hands make long strokes up the back of Star's calf, her thigh . . . oh yes, Star _definitely _needs this.

All too soon the masseuse moves to uncover her other leg, and Star's entire body feels loose, disconnected, and almost melting into the soft padded surface of the table.

More than halfway done, Star thinks sadly to herself once the woman finishes with her other leg. There's a bit more to do on her front side, and then that's it for another two or three months, barring any massages Loki decides to bestow on her-

The masseuse pauses to pour more lotion into her palms. Then those strong hands glide up each of Star's thighs . . . and then run up under the edge of the sheet and curl over each side of her rear, squeezing firmly.

Star jerks in surprise; a _butt_-massage? Uh, she's sure she'd remember getting something like _that_ before! Her head snaps up to look over her shoulder at the masseuse. "Um, _no_, not so cool with that, sorry-"

"Oh, pardon me; I was told you were to receive the _full_ massage," the masseuse murmurs throatily. "Part of the new routine from the director of the center."

Star blinks. "Uh, I don't know about _that_. Describe 'full massage' to me." OK, this is more than a little . . . weird.

"Pressure point work through the gluteus maximus and tensor fasciae latae," the masseuse murmurs, hands shifting down Star's thighs. "Many females store tension there, which can be detrimental to . . . physical activities." She hasn't looked up while speaking, her focus still on the sheet.

_'Females'? _Star thinks to herself with a little spark of amusement. Still, the woman has a point; there _are_ lots of muscles in the butt region. And they _do_ get sore sometimes.

"Well, if you say so. You're the professional," Star agrees after a moment's consideration. She lowers her face back into the headrest, tucks her arms next to her sides, and takes a deep breath, attempting to return to her former state of relaxation.

"That I am," the woman murmurs confidently. She strokes the legs again, moving her fingers with more strength against the muscle there, and keeps the touches firm. Once she feels Star relax,** then** it will be time to tease again.

_Such fun_, Loki thinks to herself, and smirks. After five more minutes, she begins kneading her pet's ass, gently at first and then with more intensity. Each globe is a perfect handful, and it is vastly enjoyable to play with them. She makes it a point to let the sheet slip a little, and the darling dimples at the base of Star's spine peek out, begging to be kissed. Still, Loki holds back, deciding to play the game a little longer.

It's a definite struggle not to purr out loud as the woman massages her expertly. At some point Star becomes aware that her butt is now fully exposed . . . and her legs are still open._ Ooops_. It's nothing the masseuse hasn't seen before, but _still_.Star closes her legs, but that's when the masseuse announces: "Time to turn over."

"OK," Star feels the masseuse lift the sheet. She twists her head to look towards the woman, but she's holding the sheet up between them like a privacy screen. _C'mon, this is all on the level_. _Has to be,_ she argues with herself, turning over as requested.

The masseuse lets the sheet drape over Star again, covering her from neck to toes. She switches to a new lotion, then bends over and starts applying it to Star's face.

_Wow, when they say 'full massage', they don't fuck around_. Still, the woman's touch is perfect, light where it needs to be, firmer in other locations. Fingers stroke lightly on her forehead, over her closed lids, then rub more firmly on her temples and scalp. Light touch returns down her cheeks and chin, then the pressure increases as the hands knead their way down the sides of her neck.

The masseuse folds the sheet down to just cover the tops of Star's breasts, pauses for a touch more lotion, and then works Star's shoulders for a moment, before sweeping down one arm and taking her hand. Strong fingers knead the palm and press a firm line up each finger, before repeating the process again; shoulder, arm, hand.

The masseuse's hands return to Star's shoulders, working the front of them again, and then sweeping across her collarbones, following each flaring curve.

Lulled, it takes a moment for Star to realize the sheet is now gliding slowly down her chest, a soft caress of fabric that leaves her bare to the waist, stiffening nipples at attention. Her eyes snap open again as her cheeks stain red.

"No need to be embarrassed," Loki murmurs sweetly. "After all, we are both female, and it's only natural to be responsive to touch. I take it as a sign that I'm doing well."

By the look of it,** very** well indeed. For a microsecond Loki feels jealous of . . . himself. Herself. That his pet is so responsive is slightly maddening, and Loki finds that the low-simmering lust within the body he wears is rising sharply, especially since his pet looks so sweet and innocent as she clutches the sheet.

Star bites her lip, still uncomfortable, but the blank, impersonal expression on the other woman's face eases her tension slightly. Star relaxes her grip on the sheet but doesn't close her eyes again. Still, does it really matter if she's exposed? The masseuse isn't going to touch her breasts - no muscle there to speak of, as far as Star knows!

"I hope you'll forgive me for saying so, but this whole thing strikes me as . . . rather unconventional." She says cautiously. She doesn't want to make the other woman feel bad, if this is what they are expected to do for every client, but still . . . if there's a suggestion box or comment card somewhere, Star is going to have a few choice things to say to this director of the centre.

"I suppose it seems so," Loki replies, adding more oil to her slender fingers, "but we are merely putting into practice the harem tradition that has existed for hundreds of years. Preparing females for erotic activities is a time-honored vocation and_ I_ am extremely . . . good at it." With a cock of her head Loki adds, "You are quite beautiful and very responsive; clearly someone appreciates you."

Star blinks, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds. There is just _so_ much wrong with what the masseuse just said. _Is it 'Inappropriate and/or Crazy Comment Day at the Spa', and I missed the memo?_ She wonders what the other woman would say if Star added her own crazy pronouncement: that she's a married woman who sleeps with the Norse God of Mischief and Lies on the side. She stops herself, barely.

"Uh, thanks, I guess?" she tries instead. Her fingers pluck at the top of the sheet at her waist, torn between seeing this bizarre experience out and pulling the sheet back up to her neck and demanding to see the manager.

"You are welcome. More than welcome in fact," the masseuse purred. "Your body misses intimate contact; all the signs are there. In my professional opinion, you need the touch of another to sate the cravings within you."

_Am I being hit on? What the _hell_-_? "And I suppose you are about to volunteer?" Star asks, voice sharp and edged with sarcasm as her anger rises. Oh yes, she's about two-point-five seconds from covering herself and reporting this crazy bitch. "Who said you're even my type? Because I'm sorry to inform you, honey, you're cute and all but I usually prefer _men_."

"I think you prefe_r gods_," comes the knowing reply, and Loki purses her mouth to blow a kiss before winking outrageously towards his confused little pet. For a few more seconds the confused look stays in place and then,_ then_ comes the suspicion. Star arches an eyebrow in a move worthy of himself and speaks up.

"You sonofabitch," Star growls as the pieces fall into place. How could she not have realized it? Same accent, same hair, skin and eye colour, similar height, not to mention the weird turns of phrase. And he'd told her before that he could take female form!

Either she's a complete idiot, or Loki used some kind of spell or illusion to flummox her. She sits up, crosses her arms over her bare chest and glares at him. Her. _Whatever_. "Is this a hobby of yours, to turn female and molest unsuspecting women, or was this all for my benefit?" she adds, snarkily.

"It was for _our_ benefit," Loki replies, smirking, and licking her red lips. "AND a very good trick if I must say so myself. Come, do you not see the humor of it? You, who knows me better than anyone, fooled for a while by my female form? You may huff and puff all you like; I know you enjoyed my touch regardless of any protest you may make."

And it's true-Loki can tell she's aroused by how wide her pupils are and the sweet flush over her chest.

For a moment Star fumes, ready to call him exactly what she did that first night they were together - a bastard. Then she bursts out laughing instead. It _is_ pretty damned funny . . . in a totally fucked-up way, of course.

And then there's: 'You who knows me better than anyone' . . .she doesn't know whether to be flattered or confused - it's times like this that make her feel like she barely knows him at all!

She laughs until tears run down her cheeks, then wipes them away and lays back down on the massage table, letting her arms fall back to her sides again. "I'll forgive you, Loki, on one condition: You complete this . . . what did you call it? 'Preparation for erotic activities' thing on me." She wonders if he'll carry that out (assuming he agrees!) in his female form still, or switch to his male one. The former would certainly be . . . interesting. She hasn't been with a woman in a long time.

"With pleasure," Loki sighs, and slides her hands to cup her pet's lovely pert breasts. This time the massage is much more personal, despite the smaller palms. Loki trails circles around each mound and makes it a point to run her thumbs along the tender undersides as well before letting her nails gently scrape the pebbled areola of each. Star shivers and arches up a bit.

Star closes her eyes, focusing on the delicious sensations. "Where did you learn to do this 'erotic preparation' thing- wait, I think I know. It was She Who Shall Remain Nameless, right?"

Loki shakes her head. "Oh no. I once tricked an ancient warlord while in my female form, and he wooed me with tender words and gifts of little Midgard maids with soft, strong hands. It was from _them_ that I learned much about the secrets of females. Such capacity for pleasure, such divine control! I knew the form, but they taught me how to enjoy it. When I finally reverted to my male shape I returned the lessons two-fold. So to speak."

"Horn dog," Star accuses her, but fondly. "And may I say it is entirely UNFAIR that you are gorgeous no matter what genitalia you're sporting. There should be a law against that, or something," she teases.

"I am above any Midgardian rule," Loki counters, "and I would rather be in a form that arouses you than not." Her fingers tweak Star's nipples before gliding up to stroke her collarbones, and the move brings Loki's face closer.

Star opens her eyes and considers, then reaches up to gently tug Loki's hair-elastic free, allowing the jet locks to fall around both their faces. She tilts her head up for a kiss and Loki obliges her eagerly, her lipstick tasting faintly of red fruit. Their tongues collide and slide together for a long sensuous moment, before Loki pulls away, smiling.

"So it _does_ please you . . ." she observes a trifle smugly. "Good. I would prefer to keep it a while longer . . . ." Loki waves a hand towards the door and the click of the lock sounds loud in the room. "We shall not be disturbed." At Star's questioning look, she adds, "I can keep time from passing for the two of us when we are within my realm, but not _all_ of Midgard."

Star nods and reaches up to touch a sleek lock of Loki's hair, then trails her finger along the edge of Loki's jaw. So strange; now that her true identity has been revealed there are so many similarities Star can see in both his forms. The cheekbones so sharp he could probably cut glass with them, for example, those are exactly the same. The slightly coarse feel of her hair, the slight wave in it.

Star wonders exactly how Loki plans to 'sate the cravings within her', wriggling a little in anticipation. Her hand slides down Loki's arm, reveling in the fascinating strangeness of hard muscle changed into a more yielding softness.

Loki laughs softly, and works to pull off the staid uniform, letting it fall to the floor. Under it she is wearing a matching bra and panty set of green and gold lace. "How does the saying go-everyone should feel pretty?" She primps a little, then catches her pet's gaze and shifts closer on the massage table, reaching out to cup Star's chin. "Kissing first. Yours are delicious and it has been a while since I've tasted your mouth."

They kiss. Loki enjoys this more than she wants to admit; kissing is a chance to be sensually gentle, and his pet is an excellent kisser.

Star purrs into Loki's mouth, wrapping fingers in her hair and tugging lightly. It's only been about two weeks since they last saw each other, but it had felt like _years _to her. Their tongues duel again, teeth knocking together though neither of them cares, the kisses becoming more urgent, devouring . . .

Star breaks first, Loki's lipstick smearing as she kisses a path along her lover's jaw, then down her throat. Under her lips she can feel the vibrations of Loki's soft groan, and Loki's fingers dig into her back, almost to the point of discomfort.

So sensitive-Loki has forgotten how the female form reads sensation from everything, and the overload threatens to drive her over the edge. She softens her grip on her pet's shoulders and twists away, drawing in a deep breath. It doesn't help that Star is smiling at her knowingly.

"You are shamelessly _good_ at this, and my form is particularly . . . susceptible," Loki admits. "Minx."

Star's expression shifts to one that takes those words as a challenge, and Loki shivers when soft lips press against the hollow at her throat. At some point her pet's fingers have found the hooks to the bra and are now undoing them with amazing speed, making Loki laugh. "Which of us is doing the seducing?" she demands, feeling her lingerie peeled off.

Star laughs against Loki's throat. "Who's stopping you?" she mocks. "When you want to be in control again, I'm sure you'll _take_ it." But Loki doesn't move to stop her - yet - so Star tosses the bra to the floor and cups Loki's breasts, squeezing her nipples firmly, smirking as her lover groans. It's so amusing how he plays at always wanting to be the Dom, yet the moment Star becomes the aggressor, he gives in so very easily.

Loki rakes her nails lightly down her pet's spine and along those tempting dimples as she giggles. "Perhaps _both_ of us are taking control," she whispers, and leans forward, forcing Star to lie back. More kissing of course, but Loki slides one manicured hand up along her pet's thigh, letting the nails tickle as she moves upward. "I believe there's a spot I _missed_ in my massage," she laughs.

"Oh yes, please," Star urges, letting her thighs fall open. "I was hoping you'd get to that. I'd hate to have to complain to your manager. The customer is always right, you know." She wags her finger at Loki, grinning, and then reaches to nip the side of Loki's neck. Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"

"_Do_ let me make amends," Loki replies, and slides her touch further up, caressing the muscles along the inside of one thigh before brushing her fingers along the soft curls between her pet's legs. She keeps it soft and slow; moving to stroke and caress as the slickness of her pet's arousal grows. Loki can see how dark Star's pupils are, and how her pulse has quickened. It's a pleasure to nibble both aching nipples.

Slowly Loki slides a wet finger into her pet, adding another moments later. She shifts her thumb to circle around the excited little bud, taking care to glide over it only once in a while as her other fingers stroke into Star. "Are we enjoying ourselves?" Loki murmurs, her teeth gripping one nipple and worrying it gently. She rubs against her pet, enjoying the sensation, but keeping her focus on giving pleasure instead of taking it.

"Oh gods, yes," Star groans, tangling her fingers in Loki's hair, which is a lot longer than in his male form, and her hips arch up against her lover's hand. She pants, trying not to orgasm too quickly, wanting it to continue as long as possible. It's difficult, as Loki knows exactly how to touch her, how to drive her right to the edge.

To distract herself, Star slips a hand between them and scratches her nails gently over one of Loki's nipples, teasing it to a hard pink point, then slides her hand as far down as she can reach (which is sadly not far, given how short she is). "Anyone ever told you-" her sentence breaks off in a gasp as Loki's thumb glides across her clit- "that you have a habit of wearing too many clothes?" Star stretches to let the backs of her knuckles brush between Loki's legs, sweeping across the golden lace.

It's a losing battle, as she feels Loki work yet another finger inside her, and her thumb settles over Star's nub, pressing insistently now. Star arches on the table, her breath shuddering out of her, muscles squeezing tightly as Loki rubs and thrusts, the pace quickening until she cries out and everything inside her gives way.

Loki softens her touch, her smeared red smile pressing against Star's cheek. "Adorable pet," she purrs and slowly slides her fingers free, letting them slither through the curls and up along Star's abdomen, not in any hurry. "Seems as if you needed that, didn't you?"

"You could say that. I really missed you," Star sighs, content. Then her expression turns sly as she threads her fingers through the waistband of Loki's panties, pulling her closer. "Do you want me to return the favour?" she asks. "It's been a long while since I've been with a woman - and I never had the opportunity to learn all that much, even then - but I figure I can extrapolate from myself. If you are willing, of course." She tugs harder on Loki's underwear and smiles up at her.

"Yes, but not here," Loki murmurs, feeling her hips wriggle despite her words. "We have already tarried long and soon the management will grow suspicious. We need another venue and I have just a place in mind . . ."

Loki snaps her fingers and the spa around them fades away, replaced by glass windows opening on a stunning view of a white sand beach and majestic palm trees. The decor is decidedly, decadently tropical and she smiles at her pet's look of astonishment. "The variety on Midgard is a point in its favor. I thought this might be a nice place to continue our . . . reunion."

Star clutches the sheet around her hips, gazing around with wide eyes. "Wow, this is _gorgeous_. Where are we?"

Loki tries to remember the name. "Ta-something. An island, and properly remote. Nobody will be bothering us here. Do you like it?" Loki saunters to the window, completely unfazed at being in nothing but very small panties, and waves an elegant arm towards the view. "So much light, and heat. Your world has such bounty. I have noted that Midgardians here barely wear clothing at all, and I must say I approve."

Star walks over to join her at the window, slipping an arm around Loki's slender waist. "I do like it, indeed. And the view is not the _only_ gorgeous thing," she adds, gently stroking Loki's side. But then Star frowns. "If you don't mind me asking, don't you dislike heat? I mean, being Jotunn and all."

Loki leans into Star, enjoying the caress. "Extreme heat, certainly, but in my years on Asgard I have grown accustomed to adapting to the environs of many places. I prefer the cold, but I am not limited to it." She slips her own arm around Star and squeezes one buttock, giggling as her pet reacts. "You seem to be doing well without clothing, I see."

Smirking, Star brushes Loki's hand gently away and lets the bed sheet fall to the floor. But she has another question, one that has been on her mind for a while. She puts both arms around Loki and rests her cheek against her lover's breast (and doesn't that feel both lovely and weird!). "Can I ask you a . . . personal question?"

"But of course you may," Loki murmurs, slipping her arms around Star and holding her. It's a lovely sensation, a mix of sensuality and nurturing and feels wonderful.

"Well, um, I'm not sure how to put this, but . . .I was kinda under the impression that you _hated_ being Jotunn. But now you seem proud of your heritage. I don't know, I guess I am just wondering how you got from Point A to Point B."

Loki pulls back and holds Star's gaze, her own expression more serious now. "Complicated, but not impossible to explain. I grew up under false assumptions, my pet. I was given to understand that I was the Allfather's son as much and rightfully as Thor. That I was an Asgardian. When I discovered that what I believed was not the truth, and that I shared no blood with she who is my mother, or Odin or Thor, it was a bitter revelation. In all that time, I'd been taught to hate and fear the Jotunn. To despise their very existence. Thor himself promised to hunt them down and destroy them all."

Loki sighs. "I had been lied to. It didn't matter what the Allfather's intention had been; the fact that he never chose to share the truth with me or my brother destroyed my faith in him as just and loving. And I took it upon myself to seek the truth of my lineage. I sought out the Jotunn, and spoke with them, discovered my heritage. They didn't trust me, knowing that I'd been raised at Odin's son, but they didn't lie to me as he had. I learned my powers and strengths and abilities. I honed them, and found them useful. I _accepted_ what I was. Accepting is not the same as liking, or enjoying or even taking pride in. Those are coming over time. But I bow my head to NO Asgardian now, much less any of the other beings of the Nine Realms. I am Loki, and in time they shall bow to ME."

Star tightens her arms around Loki. "Thank you for sharing that with me. And for what it's worth, I totally agree that Odin was a class-A DICK about the whole thing." _The whole 'everyone will bow' thing is quite a bit less acceptable, but . . . baby steps, right?_

A deep chuckle rises from Loki's throat, sultry and amused. "Crude but accurate. It is hard even now to untangle the emotions that still bind me to those I once called family. I prefer to be honest when dealing with what truly matters. Oh I still lie and deceive, yes, but there are times when I do not. When I am with you . . . I do not."

Star inclines her head and kisses the hollow of Loki's throat, inhaling the faint perfume of her skin. Still smells like leather, ha. "Glad to hear it. And now, I do believe someone is still wearing way too much clothing." She hooks her fingers into the waistband of Loki's panties and tugs them down to her knees, then lets them fall to the floor. "Bed?" Star asks, indicating the one behind them. It's not as huge as the one in Loki's hall, but it's certainly more luxurious than the one Star normally sleeps on.

Loki bats her eyes; an effectively seductive move she's practiced. "Oh yes," comes her purr and she saunters over, swinging her hips, confident that her pet's eyes are on her ass. Looking back over her shoulder, Loki purses her lips. "Make me yours," she breathes, eyes twinkling.

Star grins. "Your wish is my command," she replies saucily, coming up behind Loki and shoving her playfully face-down onto the mattress. Once again, Loki proves all too willing to submit himself. Or maybe the form he is currently wearing is influencing him? Maybe Star should encourage him to take this form more often.

Star climbs up the bed to straddle her lover. "On the other hand, maybe I should collar _you. _You seem to enjoy it immensely when I'm in the driver's seat," she whispers in Loki's ear, then nibbles gently at the lobe. Encouraged by Loki's shudder underneath her, she lifts dark hair aside and nips a line down the side of Loki's neck, rubbing her body against Loki's back as she does so.

Star strokes her fingers as lightly as she can, from the top to the bottom of Loki's spine, following her hand with a trail of soft kisses. Is that _panting_ Star hears? She smirks again, enjoying the rare sense of power.

Definitely have to do this more often.

Star kisses the dimples to either side of Loki's spine - Loki had certainly seemed entranced by _hers_ - then nips each rounded cheek. Loki gasps but doesn't resist when Star moves back even further on the bed and reaches to tug those long, sleek legs apart.

"I wonder how many interesting noises I can make _you_ utter?" Star muses out loud, stroking those tickling fingertips from the back of Loki's knee to the crease between buttock and thigh. Loki's pretty nails dig into the sheets, and Star could swear she just heard a whimper.

Loki fights for some sense of decorum, but this female form combined with the yearnings of the last few weeks is nearly too much. She grinds against the sheets and forces herself to stop. "Noises? I do not make 'noises,'" Loki protests, but feels herself grinning even as she looks over her shoulder at her pet. There is something fierce and beautiful about Star, she thinks, and then stares harder, particularly at her pet's neck. _Aha_, Loki thinks. _Now I have you._

"We'll see about _that,_" Star smirks. She strokes her way up the back of Loki's other leg, then goes right to the dark curls between Loki's thighs. The soft folds of skin are slippery and hot, and Loki jumps but manages to keep her sounds down to a sharply-indrawn breath. _I guess I'll have to try harder, _Star thinks.

She shifts position, kneeling next to Loki, then explores her lover in earnest, caressing first the outer lips, then the tender inner ones, and then slipping shallowly inside her, Star biting back her own groan as strong muscles clutch at her. To her credit, Loki manages to be fairly silent; there's only the sound of her erratic breaths.

Star's own arousal is rising again, and she shifts to rub herself against the mattress to relieve some of the tension. It's Loki's turn now, after all.

"Impressive control," Star admits, "but then again, we haven't tried_ this_-" She slips her wet fingers out of Loki and slides them forwards until she feels the thick bead under her fingers. She rubs it firmly, smirking as she waits to see if Loki will break.

The sound Loki makes is low and urgent; desperate if the truth were told. She bites her lip and lets it turn into a chuckle. "Oh you are _wicked_. I've chosen well with you." Rolling, Loki manages to turn towards Star and reaches up for the other woman, pulling her down on top of her own form. The press of their bodies with all the curves is delightful, and Loki wraps one leg around Star's hip, maximizing the press of her mound against that of her pet. "This. This will do nicely-"

Star groans and grinds against Loki. "Wicked? Me? I say it takes one to know one," Star gasps, cupping Loki's breast and playing with the nipple as they continue to rub against each other. Can Star climax this way? Definitely will be fun to try and find out.

Loki angles her hips, shuddering as the increased contact and pressure brings on waves of pleasure. It's been a while but certain delights do come back, and this is no exception. She arches up, leg tightening around Star's hip, and lets herself come hard, enjoying the molten bliss that flows through her when she finally relaxes. Looking up, Loki smiles into her pet's face and runs a hand up from her ribcage to caress the sleek line of her neck.

"Sweetheart, darling mine . . . exactly _where_ is your collar?" she purrs, feeling a sense of wicked control returning to her.

Star blinks down at Loki. She hasn't come again yet and she's feeling a little jealous, but there are more important things to deal with right now. Pleasure can wait a moment. "At home, hidden in a safe place. If I'd known I would be seeing you today, my Lor- _Lady_, I would've worn it to the spa, but unfortunately I don't have any precognitive abilities," she points out. It's a reasonable defense, she feels.

"And why are you not wearing it constantly? Does it displease you?" Loki asks, knowing the question is loaded and unfair, but loving the sight of his pet squirming as she tries to pleasure herself _and_ find a tactful answer to her question.

Star fumbles to find the best way to explain through the haze of arousal. "Constantly? Um, I am afraid there are two problems with that, my Lady. One, unfortunately I have a husband who might wonder why I am wearing this massive piece of jewelry all the time, especially since it didn't come from him." She pauses and takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the worst. "And two, to do so would be a violation of our agreement."

Loki cocks her head. She has an idea of what her pet means, and yes, it is a technicality, but it would be easy to remind Star how pleased and eager she was to receive the collar in the first place. "A violation," Loki repeats, playing along. As she speaks she slides a hand down between their bodies, her intent clear. "How would wearing such a lovely gift constitute a violation?"

Star utters a sharp cry and digs her fingers into the mattress on either side of Loki as her lover's fingers slip across her nub. Star shakes her head, trying to get her words into some kind of logical order, but she can't think. Exactly what Loki intends, no doubt. Star knows she could just move away, let herself cool down, but her need is too great.

So she stays, hips riding Loki's fingers, and does her best with what brain-cells she has left. "I think you know," she retorts raggedly. "My _Lord_," she adds deliberately. His form might be different, but he's still the same trickster.

She lets her fingers circle and stroke until Star shudders, head thrown back and sweet little cries filling the room. Being able to watch her pet come is delightful, Loki knows. Something about that unrestrained joy is addictive and intimately arousing. When Star finally slumps, limp and warm, Loki curls around her, letting her own hands stroke all that lovely skin once more. "I suppose I do, but it's such a pretty piece-rather like yourself-and I take pride in seeing it on you. Since I never tell you when I will fetch you, wouldn't it be wiser to wear it all the time?"

Star fights to catch her breath. "Neither of which are the point. Yes, it's lovely. Yes, it would be easier to keep it on all the time. But you said it yourself - with you, I am yours. Everywhere else, I am my own. And how am I supposed to do that with the symbol of your ownership around my neck, even when you are not with me? It's hard enough splitting myself already, without that reminder on me all the time."

Loki draws in a breath and bites her lower lip, trying hard to hold back the retort about how difficult it is for _her_ as well, and that they should both keep focused on matters at hand. Or _in_ hand at this point. "I'm sorry to have added to your burdens," she finally murmurs, stroking Star's spine.

Star can hear the hurt in Loki's voice, and she bites her own lip. "No, _I'm_ sorry," she says sincerely, brushing her lips against her lover's. "I should have talked to you about all this when you first offered me the collar. Maybe even before that, but I didn't think of it until it was too late. For that I can only offer the excuse that I'm negotiating a situation that is very new for me, and I'm just trying my best to make sure that nobody gets hurt – not you, not me, and not my family." She shakes her head and burrows tighter into Loki. _Yeah, doing really well with that 'not hurting Loki' part, _she chides herself. Why is it she so often manages to say the wrong thing to him?

"Tell me how I can make it up to you," Star suggests, face pressed into Loki's neck.

Loki gives a soft little purr and quickly rolls with Star, pinning the other woman and smiling down into her face. "You may make it up to me by doing just what I tell you to-for the moment. I started by massaging that lovely backside of yours and my interest in it has not abated, little pet. You do have a very nice flank, you know."

Star has to laugh. "OK. My backside is yours, Lady. Do with it as you see fit." She wriggles against Loki's grip, enjoying the sensation of being pinned down. Star wonders if Loki plans to spank her again.

If so, it will be different this time. Normally Star enjoys being spanked, but the last time (their first time together) had been _challenging._ She's not even sure why. Maybe it was everything added together - the surrealism of discovering Loki was actually real, the inevitable nerves that came with being with a new partner, the angry exchange they'd had just before she'd tried to submit - but it had been more a battle against pleasure than giving in to it. Not this time, she orders herself.

"I think," Loki breaks into her thoughts, "I _like_ your attitude. It's time to see how you look in pink stripes. Be a lovely girl and roll over while I find something suitable for my purpose." She drops a hard kiss on Star's mouth, pressing down against her firmly before pushing up and executing a perfect roll to the side, landing on her feet gracefully.

_This is good_, Loki thinks to herself. _Now to make it better. _ She saunters over to the window, and pretends to stare out of it, but in reality watches Star's reflection in the shiny glass. When her pet has turned over, settling in on her stomach, Loki turns and snaps her fingers, drawing in power currents flowing all around the room. A familiar toy box pops into existence held in the air by two ghostly, very male hands.

"What to use, what to use," Loki sing-songs softly, throwing open the lid. "A strap from my armour? Our old friend the flog? Perhaps my hand, in a glove? So many options open to us, pet."

Star squirms breathlessly, tension coiling in her belly. "I've never had a strap used on me before . . . it makes me a little nervous," she admits. On the other hand, though there have been some challenging moments (and he'd warned her there would be, hadn't he?), he's never harmed her. So- "But I'm willing to try anything once. So I say why choose, when you can use all three, my Lady?" Star smirks over at Loki.

"Clever girl," Loki praises, feeling impish. She reaches deep into the box and pulls out a long string of emeralds. "First, however, you need something to wear. Since I don't trust you an_ inch_ not to move if I leave, this will do for a temporary collar," Loki teases, and slinks back to the bed. She straddles Star's back and slips the necklace around her pet's throat, being very careful not to choke her, or snag it in her hair. "Midgardian beliefs say these stones enhance love, devotion and adoration."

She knows the stones are cool because Star wriggles a little. As Loki rises, she turns and bends, nipping one pert cheek and leaving a tiny smear of red lipstick on it. At Star's little yelp of surprise, Loki giggles. "Think of it as a preview of good things to come, sweet minx."

Star resists the urge to rub the spot, watching her lover with smouldering eyes. "Wait a minute," she says as something tickles at her memory. "If you leave? " Her brow furrows. _Leave? Huh?_ "I thought we were just getting started," Star continues, batting her eyelashes at Loki.

"We _are_; I would rather give you a second collar than waste time fetching the first one, darling," Loki points out. She rises and moves around the bed, studying her pet and thinking aloud. "How best to do this? On your knees perhaps, with a few pillows to bend over on top of, I think. And to help keep you still-"

Ghostly hands grip Star's wrists and ankles, moving her into proper position.

Star lets herself sag onto the pillows. "Thank you, my Lady," she purrs. "You're so thoughtful of my comfort. Well, relatively," she adds with a lopsided grin, thinking about what is to come. She deliberately wriggles her backside.

"That won't last," Loki promises, and picks up the strap. It's one of the pieces that keeps the leather tunic closed around her when she's a he, and very flexible. She turns; moves back to Star and drops the end of it on the mattress just under her pet's nose. "I'm sure you've seen this before."

From the shiver Star gives, that's an affirmative, and Loki pulls it so it trails over her pet's shoulder and down her bare back, all the way down to slide over one buttock. "Now it will be more than a part of my armor; now it will be part of a memory."

Lightly, Loki snaps it against one cheek, and watches as the sting leaves a faint pink stripe against the velvet skin. It's a soft blow to tease, nothing more.

Star shivers, gooseflesh rising all over her body, allowing a low gasp to escape her throat. She's not going to struggle to stay silent, not this time. She has every intention of surrendering.

The notion that Loki might be thinking of her, remembering _this_ moment, every time he puts on this particular piece of leather in the future . . . that's a pleasing thought. "I'll never look at your armor the same way again," Star chuckles. _And neither will you._

Loki gives a throaty laugh; very sexy coming from his female form. She swings the strap so it makes a hum through the air, but slows it before she snaps it once more against Star's ass. It's a slightly stronger strike, but again, nothing dangerous. "You _do_ look lovely in pink," comes the observation, and before Star can say anything, Loki bends to run a finger along the damp crease of her pet's sex, the glaze of arousal gleaming in the light.

The sting from the strap has softened, turning tingly and hot, and Loki's touch, falling right where Star needs it makes her groan happily and squirm against the strong hands holding her down. "Do I? Thank you, Lady," she manages to purr. Loki presses the fingertip a little into her, and Star shudders out another little gasp, muscles fluttering and grasping at the welcome invader.

"Ripe as a peach," Loki observes, slowly adding another finger. "And just as tempting." She strokes deeply for a few thrusts, then withdraws them, wiping the slickness onto the leather strap as Star watches. "Luscious." With speed, Loki snaps the strap twice, putting two more stripes across her pet's bottom, letting these have a bit more bite to them and Loki worries she may have hit too hard. Nervously she waits to see Star's reaction.

Star cries out, tensing, then exhales slowly as the sharp sensation fades to a more manageable level. Those ones _really_ stung, but once the aftereffects radiate through her, she relaxes down onto the pillows again, now allowing her head to hang down as well. Her clit throbs, begging to be touched, and she tries to wriggle but she can't move enough to give herself any real kind of relief. She's totally dependent upon Loki for that, too.

She wonders how much Loki is enjoying the view. What is it with men - well, _woman_ in this case, sort of - and backsides? She's tempted to think it's some kind of leftover primate impulse, except of course such wouldn't apply to Loki, as he's technically not human.

Speaking of Loki, she hasn't done anything for a few seconds, and Star twists to look back over her shoulder at her lover. "Testing my mettle, Loki of Asgard?" she asks, smirking a little. Then she frowns as she remembers their earlier conversation. _Damned Marvel canon!_ "Whoops, I'm sorry. I guess it's 'Loki of Jotunheim', right? Or 'Loki Laufeyson'?"

"I am Loki of _all_ of them," comes the mild reply. "Merely admiring and plotting, dear." Another snap of the strap strikes, but this time Loki leans down and cups her hand along her pet's mound, caressing it. "I think you need something to grip . . ."

Loki waves a hand and the lovely vibrator appears in it. She moves to rub the tip along Star's stripes, then pushes it between the lust-slickened petals of her pet's sex, sliding it in and smirking when Star moans with pleasure. "There. Something to keep you full while I finish this."

"So thoughtful," Star repeats, the words part gasp and part groan. Pleasure spikes within her. Oh yes, _this_ Star definitely enjoys. _Where do I sign up for more? _she thinks to herself.

Her muscles twitch and pulse around the toy . . . as it slides backwards and then falls out of her and onto the mattress. _Crap._ "Uh, a little help here?"

Loki giggles; she can't help it really-Star is clearly enjoying herself, and this little setback is temporary. Carefully Loki picks up the vibrator and motions to another ghostly hand to slowly plunge it in and out where it's clearly needed. Then she swings the strap again, this time working on the sensitive area between cheek and thigh, along the crease of the haunch. It doesn't take a lot of power to raise the color there, and the effect is raw and gorgeous. Loki draws a breath and stops to caress one of her own breasts, feeling her own arousal growing.

Star cries out again, but it's more in pleasure than pain, the heated sting merging with all the other sensations centred in her core. The toy is set on the lowest setting, but the ridge on it finds every sweet spot inside her. "Oh God," she pants thickly, "_Loki._" Her fingers dig into the sheets until knuckles go white, sweat trickling slowly down her skin. Her thoughts are starting to tangle together, their edges lost as she sinks further into sensation, but one stray thought does get through- _Frost Giant'll _melt _if she gets any closer right about now-_

The intimate, raw pleasure of seeing Star just about to tip over the edge makes Loki grit her teeth. She whips one last lash against those pretty cheeks and then slips a hand down to cup Star's mound again, letting her fingers lightly rub against that stiff button buried in the curls. Star's throaty groans fill the room, and Loki slides her other hand, cool and soft, over the heat radiating off her pet's ass. For long seconds Star climaxes, body taut and shuddering before she finally collapses onto the mattress. The ghostly hands relax their grip, and the one holding the end of the vibrator slowwwwwly withdraws it.

Loki takes the strap and threads it between her pet's wet thighs, letting Star's juices soak into the leather. With a soft pull she slides it out again, kisses it, and sets it aside before curling up on the mattress next to her exhausted pet.

It seems to take a long time for Star to be able to move again, her muscles lethargic, heat still radiating off her backside, though the ache there doesn't really bother her. When she can, she shoves pillows out of the way until she can wrap her arms tightly around Loki's neck, pressing their bodies together. "Thank you," Star purrs. "There are . . . no words in the English language for how wonderful that felt. Let me try to return the favour."

She's the one to reach between their bodies now, stroking her fingers through dampened black curls as she draws Loki's red mouth to hers for a deep loving kiss. Soon enough Star wants to taste more of her lover's skin, so she kissed and licks her way down Loki's throat and chest, pausing to lap at each firming nipple. Her other hand continues to stroke, searching through Loki's folds until Star can slip her fingers deep inside.

Loki's hands tighten on Star's shoulder blades, soft sounds passing through her mouth, though the pitch and volume increases quickly as Star's hand moves faster. It emboldens Star to nudge Loki onto her back, to push her unresisting legs further apart, before sliding her fingers back into her lover. The heat inside Loki seems to contradict her Jotunn heritage, and Star smirks at the observation before she leans over her lover's body to wrap her mouth around that most tender of spots, right above where her fingers are thrusting in and out.

It doesn't take long before Loki's hips are pushing up hard, in time to Star's movements. Strong fingers tangle in Star's hair, and Star savours the sweet saltiness as Loki arches beneath her. Is that Star's name that Loki just uttered between panting breaths? She smiles and waits for the last few ripples of pleasure to run their course, and then she lets her hand slide out of Loki, her head pillowed on her lover's belly, eyes closing as the last of Star's strength deserts her.

It's a while before Loki wakes, feeling a rare sense of peace. She draws a breath and lets her form shift back to male, feeling a surge of strength and height through his frame even as he reaches a hand to stroke Star's hair. There are plans and strategies to carry out, and Loki has three alliances to broker out in one of the other realms, but here in this warm little hideaway he allows himself to relax. Certainly his pet has surprised him in the best of ways; her willingness to take him on in _any_ form charms him; pleases him to no end.

"Oh best of pets," he whispers softly. "Little kitten with the softest fur and fiercest squeak. I put you through so much and you _still_ want to play, still wrap yourself around the jagged stone I have for a heart." Loki slips his other hand to reach for the strap, and brings it to his nose, smiling. "Now I will have your essence with me wherever I go."

Star wakes gradually, disoriented for a few seconds. A hand is gently stroking her hair and it feels lovely, and yet . . . something is different. Then she works it out; the belly under her cheek has changed from soft to hard, with firm muscle shifting subtly underneath her. She lifts her eyes, looking up the length of her lover, and just as she expected he's back in his typical form.

"Well, hello there, handsome," Star purrs huskily. "So, had your fill of my behind yet? Do I look as good in 'pink stripes' as you hoped?"

"You do and it does," Loki replies, looking over his pet's shoulder and letting his hands cup her bottom. "Although we may need to repeat the application as some time in the future. For now, I think both of us need nourishment before anything else. I know there is some Midgardian way to procure food here, but how it is done . . . "Loki shrugs. "You must show me."

"Repeat the application? Oh, _darn_," Star jokes. She moves to sit on the edge of the bed. "Hmmm, I don't normally come to resorts like this, but I imagine there's a restaurant or something around here. I don't suppose you have GPS or anything? Oh, and I'm guessing I'll need my clothes." She looks around, but all she sees is the crumpled sheet by the window. Hopefully Loki can access the locker at the spa easily enough, or she's definitely going to frighten a few locals. Or start a new fashion trend. One or the other.

Loki opens a closet; the hangers are full, the clothing evenly divided between male and female attire. "We have choices here, and there is . . ." he taps a finger on the polished bamboo dresser. A second later, coins, bills and jewels scatter across the surface like casino winnings, "currency as well." Looking at Star's expression Loki gives a faint shrug. "I have given this some thought, pet. Not every decision is by impulse. Come, choose our garments and we shall walk among others."

Twenty minutes later, Loki glances around the terrace that overlooks the lagoon, watching the sun begin to set, colors bleeding across the water. There are lights strung through the palm trees and a little breeze makes the tiki torches flicker as Star clings to his arm and makes an approving sound. A waiter approaches and gives a little bow of his head.

"Mr. Laufeyson?"

Loki nods an affirmative and they follow the waiter, Star still holding tight to Loki's arm. It's gorgeous here, but she feels very out of her element. Hell, she's never even travelled out of North America!

Yet Loki has been to different planets, probably even to other universes. She can barely wrap her mind around _that_ notion. Let alone that he wants to rule them all. _Yeah, __no__._

The waiter brings them to a table at the very edge of the terrace, and though Star has to smile at Loki pulling the chair out for her like a proper gentleman, she winces as she settles onto her tender bottom. "Ouch!" she says once the waiter moves away. "I don't suppose you have any healing balm in that toy chest of yours? I think I'll need some once we get back. If I last that long," she mutters the last bit to herself. Maybe she should've thought to suggest room service instead. At least she could've eaten while lounging in bed, instead of out here in public, trying to find a comfortable sitting position without being _obvious_ that she is trying to find a comfortable sitting position.

I have a few unguents, but I do not know if they will work for you," Loki tells her with concern. "If you are in pain then perhaps it would be best to forgo matters and simply pass the evening together. I _do_ appreciate your company for more than just pleasures of the flesh, my pet. Not_ everything_ must end in lust."

"_Not_ everything? How disappointing," she winks at him. Since she _does_ enjoy doing things with him other than bedroom acrobatics, she decides to put up with the soreness for as long as she can. "_Pain_ is a strong word. Let's call it 'discomfort', OK? And we'll just have to rely on you to _distract_ me." Finally finding a semi-decent position - with one leg folded under her - she stretches her arm across the table towards him, reaching out for his hand. "By the way, I don't think I've ever told you, but as hot as you look in your armor, you look equally hot dressed as one of us 'Earthlings'," she observes, smirking.

Loki arches an eyebrow at the compliment, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "Thank you. I believe in making the effort. What should we have the servants bring us? I know fish are probably the wisest choice, but nothing on this list looks familiar to me. And something to drink would be good as well. What, as the native here, would you suggest?"

As his pet studies the menu, he looks around, taking in the ambience of the terrace. The sun has set and the sound of the sea is soothing. _Almost romantic_, Loki notes. He hasn't had a lot of experience with the concept, at least not in terms of courting in a formal sense. Oh he knows the steps; living as the son of a king means Loki understands the process. Noble families choose to marry as a form of battle strategy more often than not, and love is generally an afterthought. It's odd to think that his mother once had hopes that he and Thor would find mates, and now . . . now that will not happen, at least not for himself.

It's a melancholy thought, and not one Loki wishes to inflict on his pet, so he catches the eye of the servant hovering nearby and waves her over.

"Uh, sorry, could you give us just another minute or two?" Star asks the waitress.

Loki looks questioningly at her as the woman nods and leaves. "Look, I may be a native of this _planet,_ but not of this region. And I don't know what _you_ like. I'm not really a huge fish fan, but I do like salmon. Or would you like to try some seafood? I see they have lobster. It's very good . . . though it might be a bit messy to eat." She squeezes his warm fingers gently and smirks at the thought of elegant Loki wearing a lobster bib. But when she looks up from the menu he looks distant and a little sad, and she wonders what she's done wrong _now_. _Crap. _"Loki, what's wrong? Are you OK? We don't have to do the lob-"

"Nothing is wrong," he tells her firmly, making sure he smiles as he does so. "I am hungrier than I thought, that's all. I will have this lobster, and if it is not to my liking, then we shall have chocolate instead. They _do_ have that, do they not?"

His pet laughs aloud, and when she does he feels his mood lighten considerably. She is graceful and bold; a good companion indeed. Star nods, and tells him that it's not generally a dinner item, but Loki waves that away.

"Just no chocolate-covered lobster, OK?" she says, shaking her head and stroking her fingertips lightly along the palm of his hand. It would probably be easier for her to flip through the menu with both hands, but she wants to feel his skin under hers. He's lying about nothing being wrong, she'd stake her professional license on it, but she'll let it go for now.

"I can never remember which wines are supposed to go with what, but we can ask the waitress. Or they might have a sommelier. I'm only going to drink one glass though, I'm warning you now. That'll likely be enough to make me tipsy. Staying away from alcohol during my pregnancy and two years of breastfeeding has made me a lightweight." She shifts a little as the leg bent under her starts to fall asleep.

"Wine," Loki muses. "Wine could be . . . helpful, for this evening," he looks at her, hoping his pet understands his meaning. If her offer of intimacies of a more exotic variety is still in consideration, then wine will make an excellent first start.

_An opener_, he thinks, and fights a laugh as he looks at Star.

Her eyes narrow as she gazes at him and his barely-concealed amusement. "Loki Laufeyson, I do believe you are trying to get me drunk." She releases his hand and crosses her arms over her chest, giving him her best suspicious look. "Well? Are you going to _tell _me what depravity you plan to visit upon me tonight, or are you going to leave me in suspense?"

He's enough of an infuriating prick to simply smile and wait until the waitress has returned and taken their orders before he reminds Star of her offer. To her credit she looks intrigued, and Loki feels compelled to be honest with her.

"In my time with Angrboða I came to know this variation and all the preparation necessary to make it pleasurable. I do not have many reasons to think well of my enchantment, but this would be one indeed. Tell me pet; are you willing to entice me so, or shall we choose _other_ games for tonight?" He waits for her answer, feeling a surge of desire as he watches her in the light of the torches, noting the brightness of her eyes and the tease of her smile.

"And here I thought you were done with my backside . . . well, as long as you promise to be gentle, no problem. I don't have a lot of experience with _that_, and the experience I did have was not exactly . . . fun," she explains, her smile faltering a little at the memory. "Two glasses of wine for me, then. Maybe even _three_. But I hope you'll give me enough time afterwards to sober up." She frowns over at the sunset. "Say, you can still bend time here, right? Or I'm going to be _very_ late to pick up my kid from daycare."

Loki cocks his head and concentrates; as he does so the sun rises in the west and climbs back into the sky; around them the tables fill and empty, both with plates and people in a rewinding of the day. By the time he stops the hour is . . . lunchtime. He rubs his forehead and blinks a little, feeling the twisting pain begin to fade. His pet looks around utterly amazed.

"Show off," she finally accuses him fondly, though her smirk fades when she sees his pained expression. She scoots her chair over next to him and bats his hand away, taking over the head-massage until the little line between his brows relaxes. "Good thing you didn't back us all the way to breakfast," she remarks. "Somehow I doubt they serve lobster and wine brunches, even here!"

She doesn't know if he even really heard her - he's too busy ogling her cleavage (well, the little she has, anyway). He does seem to like the dress she'd picked out. It has thin spaghetti straps and two layers, the inner one white and opaque, and the outer one gauzy and splashed all over with abstract blots in varying tones of green and blue. It goes quite well with her 'temporary collar' of emeralds, which he'd insisted that she continue to wear.

"I will be well once we have eaten," Loki reassures her. "A time-turning between here and your home requires a moment of pure focus that can be draining. Sustenance will help, and now we have our time in abundance."

The lunch hour is uncrowded, and the food exquisite. The lobster is done in thermador style and comes with a Chateau Noir Chardonnay that lives up to its price. Loki enjoys the meal, eating enough to satisfy but not gorge himself. He can see that his pet is by turns fidgety and finicky, picking at her meal but dutifully drinking the wine. Loki senses Star is both excited and anxious, so he keeps his voice soft, and reaches for her hand often, soothing her with his presence. Once the meal is done, he offers her his arm and they walk back to the suite out on the end of the dock. Before they reach the door though, Loki pulls her to his chest and kisses her, meeting her mouth with his.

Star wants to melt into the kiss, she really does, but her mind keeps trying to get up and wander off. It kept happening during lunch (dinner?) too. Despite the utter deliciousness of the lobster, she found herself too nervous to eat much of it. Even the wine isn't helping as much as she'd hoped, though she'd stopped herself at two glasses. So she has a warm feeling in her belly, a slight slur to her words and a little more clumsiness to her movements, but her anxiety is still alive and kicking.

Her mind keeps replaying images from the _last_ time. Her Dom had sprung the act on her in the middle of a heavy scene, without negotiating it with her first, and she'd been totally unprepared. Not for the physical consequences - it hadn't actually _hurt_. But for the psychological ones; her brain had vapor-locked and she hadn't even been able to safe-word.

She and Loki don't even _have_ a safe-word (assuming she could use it this time, either!). Which means this could be a really bad idea . . .

On the other hand, it's not like she's being ambushed this time; he talked about 'preparation', didn't he? She _does_ trust him, trusts him to make it far better for her than her previous experience. She reminds herself of that as she returns his kiss, letting him warm her chilly hands in his larger ones as he opens the door and leads her into the suite.

"First things first," Loki murmurs, searching her eyes. "We are going to bathe in the hot pool together." He lets his pet undress him; helps her out of her pretty dress, letting his touch be both tender and teasing as he does so. It's fun to drop to his knees and slip her high heels off, to scoop her up and carry her to the secluded patio and the steaming pool there.

They soak. Loki allows himself to relax completely, enjoying the water. It's warmer than he's used to, but it helps, along with the scent of jasmine tinting the water. Star settles in with a sigh, moving to his side and leaning against him, her hands caressing him under the water.

The heat helps to relax her. A_ lot_. Loki's hands occasionally skimming over her skin don't harm either, and the water finally eases the last of the tenderness out of her backside. Which is good, considering it's about to get another workout.

She leans her head against Loki's chest. "Sorry, I don't mean to be a killjoy. I want to do this with you. It just makes me a little nervous, too." She sighs and wraps her arms around him, as his fingers trace a slow line up the middle of her back. She stops there; he doesn't need to know the details.

"We do not _have_ to do this," Loki reminds her. "I understand your trepidation; I had much the same myself when first presented with the opportunity. Let us take matters in small steps, and if at any time you do not want to proceed, we will stop. Is that fair enough?" Even as he speaks he pulls her onto his lap and strokes her back and hips, his touch languid. The key is relaxation, and that comes with trust. Loki nuzzles her neck, waiting for her reply.

"Yes, my Lord. That sounds very reasonable," she agrees, after a brief hesitation. Then she adds, curious: "Were you the, erm, giver or receiver your first time?"

He chuckles. "I received, and no, I was _not_ in my female form. Fortunately the experience was very good, and I took the lesson to heart, if not other places." Loki laughs with his pet at that, and nips the lobe of her ear, feeling pleased. "Therefore I do speak with empathy."

It is the truth, and his memories of lying under Angrbooa are still full of dark enchantment. While she was never kind, she _had_ been gentle and deliberate, making the unknown much less frightening. By the time he'd climaxed (so long and powerfully that he'd cried out) Loki had realized how much pleasure could be had in being taken in such a way.

"Kinky," Star can't help smirking at the mental image. "I'll give She Who Shall Remain Nameless points for that." She stretches to kiss Loki, caressing the lean muscle of his arms, and then closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the water bubbling against her skin. "I probably shouldn't stay in here too much longer; I love Jacuzzis but I get overheated pretty fast."

"Agreed," he tells her, and helps his pet out, drying her off with one of the large bath sheets and taking his time doing so. When she insists on reciprocating Loki lets her, enjoying her ministrations. Finally though, he pulls her onto the bed to lie with him there in the low light of the bedside lamp.

"A new oil," he informs her, and wiggles his fingers. Instantly, a little stone jar pebbled with gems appears in it. Loki brings it closer where they both look at it, and he speaks again. "Oil of Notyr. It's used for healing and relaxation. It has . . . tranquil properties. Nothing too overpowering, but it does have a reputation as the best agent for our purposes. And the scent is appealing."

"Sounds right up my . . . _alley_?" Star can't help punning. Loki uncorks the jar and holds it up for her to sample its perfume. She inhales and wrinkles her brow, musing over the scent. "It's like . . . I don't know, a cross between a peach and a rose. And spicy, too. It's interesting."

"A boon," Loki assures her, and sets the stone jar on the nightstand. He smiles and pulls her over him, taking joy in the simple press of skin to skin. There is no sense of urgency, and he kisses his pet, taking time to run his tongue around hers. For a while they indulge themselves, and then Loki turns his attention to her breasts, teasing the skin and toying with her nipples until they are rosier than usual and stiff enough to suckle. When he does, his pet groans with pleasure, her eyes dark with growing lust. This is good, Loki knows. If he can give her at least one climax before attempting to breech her, she will be much more receptive. He hungers for her more than he realizes.

Star moans softly and cards her fingers through Loki's still-damp hair, her hips twisting on the sheets after he rolls her onto her back and leans over her, now kissing and nipping his way down her belly. Her eyes close and she spreads her thighs for him without any hesitation, as she's fairly certain what his current goal is.

"Loki," she purrs, and she can feel his smile against her flesh.

He takes his time nosing through the damp fur, pleased at how warm and receptive his pet is to his kisses. The rich flavor of her sex spurs Loki on, and he slips his tongue along the seam, the slickness there far better than any other dessert. The wriggle of his pet's hips urges him on, and Loki concentrates, pressing apart the glossy lips all the better to tease her.

It's a secret pleasure, this ability to drive Star over the edge of her desire. Loki likes the control, the opportunity to sense the change of her breathing, the tightness of her thighs as they press against his shoulders. If they had more time he would build and slow, tease and play, but not now. Instead he slows his licking, letting the heat and weight of his tongue settle into an unstoppable stroke even as she winds her fingers into his hair.

Her back stiffens and her toes curl, writhing underneath Loki as he laps at her, suckles on her. Heat speeds through her, starting deep inside her and then engulfing her from soles to crown, leaving her gasping and limp on the sheets. She's vaguely aware of Loki continuing to press light kisses to her flesh, along the lips of her sex, the inside of her thighs, but he waits for her to catch her breath before he slides up next to her and kisses her. She can taste the tang of herself on his mouth.

She wonders if he'd let her return the favour first. She kisses him harder and slides a hand between them, letting it follow the thickening line of dark hair leading down to his shaft.

Loki indulges in her caress, but slowly pulls her fingers from his veiny shaft a few minutes later and holds her gaze. "Do we . . . proceed?" he purrs, pleased at the way his pet looks in the afternoon light: relaxed and downright seductive. It makes him throb, and that in turn makes her giggle even as her fingers toy with the pearly smear along the head of his cock.

"OK," she agrees, and then hesitates. "How do you want to do this?"

"Ohhhh my sweet pet," Loki smirks, "Roll over."

When she does, slowly, he strokes her back and leans down to whisper in her ear. "Now to kiss you. There is no part of you, Star, that is less than lovely and arousing to me, including the little rose of your ass. I suspect you do not believe that, but I'm going to prove it."

Loki reverses himself, stuffs a few pillows under his pet's hips, and begins to kiss her spine. He moves slowly, letting his lips and hair tease the soft warm skin under him, and adds lingering sweeps of his tongue to the caresses. Star squirms of course, giggling now and then in her nervousness but she remains relaxed for the most part.

He moves his kisses over the sweet hills of her ass, adding a nip or two to those peachy globes. They're lovely and firm, only faintly striped now, and warm. After a while, he reaches for the stone jar on the nightstand, moving deliberately, and speaking over his shoulder. "I am going to use some of the Notyr. Still comfortable?"

She makes an affirmative sound half muffled against her arm, and Loki laughs.

The oil is slightly warm and although it is thick in the jar it becomes much more liquid on his fingers. Loki rubs it between Star's thighs, teasing them apart, and making his touch glide lightly over the seam of her sex. She parts her legs, only a little at first and then more widely, giving him easy access to her body. Carefully Loki dribbles some of it down the cleft of her ass, letting it trickle down and warm the skin before following it with an index finger.

The globes of her ass part and he strokes, his touch made easier by the Notyr. His fingers glide between her cheeks and Loki moves slowly, letting his pet get familiar with the sensation of being touched in so private a place. His own desire grows as he does so; Star's hips roll a bit in response to his touch, and when his fingers slide ever so lightly across the pucker deep within, she gives a surprised groan.

"Is that all right?" Loki asks, fairly sure that it is.

"Oh, y-yes," Star whimpers. She shifts against the pillows, digs her fingernails deep into the duvet. Her face heats with a blush, though. It's not so easy to undo all the years of being told that this is wrong and dirty . . .

But it feels so _right_.

"Good girl. Beautiful girl," Loki assures her. "You're very responsive, which is a delight to me." As he speaks he lets his fingers circle her pucker, moving gently along the sensitive flesh and spreading the oil thickly. Loki feels a surge of tenderness along with lust; his pet is so trusting even through her own trepidation, and it's clear that once she relaxes she may well be a natural for this.

"I'm going to kiss you," Loki warns, and before his pet can do more than squeak, he does so, letting himself flick his tongue over the sensitive little ridges. Star writhes, and the sounds she makes are definitely encouraging.

She barely recognizes the noises coming out of her. Wetness drips down between her thighs, and she's fairly sure it's not just the Notyr. Loki kisses her again, slowly, and she gasps, muscles tightening all over her body. "Oh God-" How can that feel so fucking _good_? "You're good at this," she moans. "I may just have to _keep_ you," she adds as a joke.

"Yes," Loki agrees, and moves his face across one cheek to nip it before returning to kiss her again. He's glad he's had experience with this because his lust is simmering nicely now, heated by his pet's responsiveness. There is something so primitive about kissing her this way, something Loki knows is beyond what his brother would ever do with a lover. Carefully he lets his tongue slide into the hot silken pucker.

Star groans this time, a full-on groan that makes his cock throb. Loki thrusts his tongue again, the move slippery and fun as his pet wriggles again. The challenge is in teasing her into urging him on, and staying in control at the same time, and by the sounds his pet is making, it won't take too much more.

"Oh God, _Loki_," she gasps, unable to lie still. She can't believe what he's _doing_, or how insanely perfect it feels. Slickness, darting heat, inside her, driving her insane, and she adores every moment.

She can swear that she can feel each of his individual fingertips pressing into her ass, holding her cheeks wide apart as his tongue slips wetly in and out of her. "Please," she begs between groans, hips rocking back against him. She doesn't even realize what she's saying, not really.

He pulls back a moment, murmuring, "Ready for a little more?" Her low gasp seems to be affirmative, so Loki lets his index finger press against her pucker. There's a moment of resistance, and then his finger slides in to the first joint, slick and snug. Loki lets her get used to the feel, but it doesn't take long before his pet is urging for more.

Loki lets his finger slide deeper as he nibbles and kisses her rounded cheeks again, and the ease with which it moves lets him know that the wine and foreplay are doing their job in making matters much easier. Several strokes later he's using two fingers, and finally three, taking care to move slowly.

The very sight of his fingers moving into her is painfully arousing and Loki grinds against his pet's hip, trying not to dribble too much. Scent and taste have him feeling intensely horny now, and to calm himself he adds more Notyr, slathering it lavishly.

Noise continues to spill out of her, almost on its own, and her hips continue to rock back and forth, helping Loki impale her on those long fingers. She abruptly becomes aware of his arousal, pressed hard and hot into her side, and she reaches down to touch and stroke him, tracing the thick veins with a gentle scrape of her nails.

It's his turn to groan, pushing himself into her hand, but she doesn't break his focus; his fingers move in such a way as to carefully _stretch_ her, open her, and she moans deep in her throat, her hand shuddering to a stop as her mind is assaulted by pleasure.

Loki grits his teeth, trying to keep his focus on what he's doing over what he's _feeling_. Star's little tease feels wonderful but if he indulges himself matters may well be over before they start and that would be unfair all around. He whispers to her, "I think you're a wicked pet and I want you very much . . ."

The sound she makes-half giggle, half moan-is precisely what he wants to hear, and Loki shifts, moving himself to the center of the mattress and pulling her over him. She looks confused, but he smirks up at her, holding her gaze. "This way first-you have the choice of how fast and how deep. Gods, you're beautiful."

To her credit, his pet understands and rises on her knees, reaching between her thighs to guide his shaft, and when the head of it presses against that dusky rose pucker Loki draws in a sigh. Star lets it rest there a long moment and then lowers herself ever so slightly, allowing him to breach her. She hisses, freezing and Loki holds her hips, letting her get used to the sensation. He knows the Notyr is helping, and after long moments Star relaxes a little, shooting him a bright-eyed, smutty look.

"I thought you might like it," he replies. When she bends her knees and takes more of him in, Loki hisses, the pleasure threatening to set him off like a rocket. It's only a few inches, but damnable tight slick squeeze is making his pulse race, and he knows he looks dazed.

Star takes a deep breath and tries to relax, to take him in even further. It's a _challenge_, he's not exactly small, and the _stretch_ is somewhere between pleasure and discomfort, but it feels so damned good still. Nerve endings she never realized she had are firing off in response to this intimate caress, making her groan low in her throat as her head falls back on her neck.

Loki makes a sound deep in his chest, and she looks at him. His eyes are glazed and he's smiling sweetly up at her, making her heart skip a beat for an entirely different reason than the sexual act they're performing.

Slowly, Star pushes herself down, pausing every now and then to let her anatomy adjust, until she feels she's reached her limit. He's so hard, and hot. _Hot? And he's supposed to be a Frost Giant? Yeah, I don't think his cock got _that _memo._ "Christ, you're . . . _long_." she moans. "I don't think I can take in any more-"

Loki grips her hips more tightly, his expression strained. "I don't think_ I _can either," comes his rumble, and he feels hot and cold shivers running through him now. His pet, smiling down at him, _impaled_ on his aching cock; if he lifts his head a little he can see between her legs, her lovely cleft through her fur and under that, his shaft slowly sliding into her ass. It's so very primitive, slick and glistening with Notyr, and the wet sounds of their bodies joining are like sweet nails trailing on his skin. She has her hands on his chest, leveraging herself and it's a struggle not to thrust even though every cell in his body is _demanding_ he do so.

"Love, I must . . . move," Loki grunts, and licks his lips, waiting for permission in a haze of raw lust.

She mentally readies herself. "OK, just...not too rough, please?" She can't help tensing up, just a little. He's big, and she feels so_ full._ Can she handle it if he moves? Looks like she's going to find out, right. about. NOW.

Loki pushes forward slowly, and rocks back, his hands braced on Star's hips. The movement is small, but oh-so-sensual; fucking by inches and the sensations make him shudder with bliss. It won't take much to set him off, so he concentrates on being very gentle. By the expression on Star's face it seems to be just as pleasurable to her, and she wriggles a bit, her hips rocking with his, the movements small and deliberate.

"Gods," he gasps again, his breathing ragged.

Now that Star is starting to get used to the feelings, she becomes aware of other sensations as well: she's _very _wet, her clit pulsing with need. She can't stand it anymore; it feels so _good _but she's not sure she can come this way. She braces one hand more firmly on Loki's shoulder and brings the other hand to her nub, rubbing it gently. No doubt he'll enjoy the show, too, if she has learned anything about him at all.

Her muscles tense up, tightening around him, their groans coming in concert now, heat rushing through her as she pants for breath and looks up at him again-

He bites his lower lip, eyes locking with hers and within a minute feels Star climax, _hard_, her small frame wracking with shudders, each spasm squeezing his cock and making Loki cry out, his voice low and ragged as wave after wave of searing pleasure rushes through him. He feels himself fountain deep within his pet with every thrust.

Finally Loki slows, his hands holding Star's hips as he regains his focus. She's completely relaxed, slumping against him, and Loki shifts her so that his softening prick slides out to lie against his thigh. Carefully he brings his face to hers, studying her expression. "Little valkyrie, that was quite a ride!" Loki teases. "Your master thanks you!"

Star snorts and wraps her arms around his neck. "Ride? That's one word for it, yes. You're welcome, _stallion_," she jokes. "Seriously, I should thank YOU. That was . . . amazing and mind-blowing and hot as hell _combined_ doesn't begin to cover it." She snuggles up against his chest. "I'm glad to have some much better memories to associate with _that_ act now."

Absently, she toys with the string of emeralds still around her neck. She supposes they will have to address the topic of her usual collar at some point, but not right now. At the moment she just wants to press skin-to-skin and hold tightly to him. She wishes she never had to let him go.

Loki sighs and kisses her forehead. "Not to frighten you, but there may be some blood, and certainly you shall be sore for a bit; let us bathe and I will heal any minor tears that you may have. If you are a good girl, someday I will let you have _me_ in the same manner."

Her stunned look makes him smirk, and he adds, "Believe me, the pleasure for a male can be just as intense."

There is a trace of blood; nothing major, and Loki runs his fingers along her damp little pucker, concentrating his magic to mend the tiny injuries. After another shower he wraps his pet in a towel and carries her back to the bed, now clean and remade. "Sleep," Loki tells her. "When you wake you shall be back on the table at the spa."

Star bites her lip and catches at his wrist. "Will you . . . stay with me until I fall asleep?" It's total romance novel bullshit, of course. But she wants him to be physically close to her for as long as she can have that. She already misses him, and he hasn't even left her alone yet!

_Fuck, I'm _so_ screwed. _How the hell she'll be able to go back to her normal life and _act_ normal, she has no clue.

Loki settles her on the bed and joins her, curling himself around his pet's small form, and kissing her shoulder. "Of course. Our time together has been . . . very special to me, and I am loathe to leave you." He runs a hand along the necklace at her throat and it disappears under his fingers. "There. Until we are reunited, I will hold _these_ for you as well. Soon you will have an entire collection of collars to choose from, beloved," he teases, and wraps a long, strong arm around her waist, settling in as outside the suite, the rustle of palms and the soft cries of seagulls lull them both to sleep.

-oo00oo-

When Star wakes, just as he promised, she's back in the spa. Alone. She sighs and makes her way out to the locker room. "Did you enjoy your massage?" the receptionist asks as Star hands over her credit card.

"Oh yes," Star smirks. "It was very . . . stimulating, yet relaxing."

She makes it to daycare with plenty of time to pick up her daughter before closing, and she manages to make it through the rest of the day with hubby only commenting once on how preoccupied she seems.

Star tells him she's thinking up a new fanfiction story, and he smiles knowingly and leaves her to think. That's a relief.

She knew this would be difficult, balancing what is almost effectively two lives, two selves, and having her time with Loki bleed into this life is a bad, bad idea, but something about this latest encounter has really wrapped itself around her brain.

To shake it, she waits until hubby is asleep, then goes to rummage in her underwear drawer. Maybe if she just touches the collar, holds it in her hands for a second that will make her feel better. Or maybe it won't, but it's worth a try.

She searches under and around the messily-folded items, then in each corner of the drawer, but the collar is gone.

There's a second of panic, but then Star decides Loki must have taken it. He did say he would hold 'them' for her, right? She'd thought he meant merely the string of emeralds, but probably he meant both collars. Besides, hubby would've said something if he'd found it, not that he has ever made it his business to go through her drawers. Well, _one _set of drawers, anyway.

Star takes a deep breath and closes the drawer. There's nothing else she can do except try to maintain both lives. Her family needs her, and Loki, as much as she suspects she's falling for him, hard, is never going to be there for her 24/7 the way she would need him to be, assuming he'd even want something other than this sexual relationship. The only way she can have the best of both worlds is to keep up both selves.

As challenging as that may be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Star-Crossed (7/?)**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: Sept 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Something nasty comes after Star; Loki gets to enjoy more of his second-favourite Midgardian thing – chocolate.**

**Disclaimer: Marvel owns Loki. Though can they really own a mythological character? I wonder…**

He is concerned. In the course of his time, Loki has the capacity to look in on his pet, and does. It's not spying, per se-he doesn't watch her when she's with her family, or in situations that require privacy, but now and again he finds himself needing to simply see her and know she is all right.

But three times now, he has watched her, and noted that someone else seems to be watching her as well. Once would be a coincidence, and twice something to make note of, but when the same figure appears in the background a third time, Loki feels the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

This is no co-worker or associate. This figure stays right on the periphery of his pet's daily commute and while he might be going the same route, his stealthy focus is clearly on Star.

-oo00oo-

Star massages the back of her neck and squints tiredly at her computer screen. She's about twelve lectures into preparing her new course for next term. _Only another eighteen to go,_ she reminds herself unhappily. _Gods, this is taking forever._

She tries to convince herself that it'll be worth it once she's all done. Finally she'll be teaching something she actually was trained in!

Star starts to reach for her textbook when there's a knock at her office door. Actually, it's more like a loud _rapping_, abrupt enough to make her jump in her seat.

She smirks and shakes her head - seen one too many horror films there, haven't we? - and gets up to see who it could be. It's near the end of summer vacation and there's hardly anybody around, but the occasional person still manages get themselves lost in this confusing old building that used to be a convent back in the day.

But when Star opens the door . . . nobody is there. She frowns and glances up and down the boring beige hallway. Nothing.

She shrugs and shuts the door again, walking back across the office to her computer. This would be why she prefers to work here in the summer, when there are few to no distractions. She's just settled in once more when the loud knocking comes again. "What the _fuck?_" she mutters, starting to get annoyed.

Again, she opens the door and the hallway is utterly dead. This time she actually walks out of the office and down the hall a little, checking in both directions, but there's still nothing to see.

_Jesus H. Christ. _"Some people are trying to get work done here!" She snaps loudly. "Don't make me call Security!"

Only silence answers her, and Star shakes her head and goes back into her office.

She shuts the door, starting to walk back to her computer yet again-

BANG! BANG! BANG! This time the raps are so loud that the door shudders in its frame. Star jumps back and claps her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream, the noise ringing in her ears. How the hell did whoever it is get there so _fast_? She hadn't even heard the sound of running feet-

The banging continues, a slow predictable rhythm that has her shrinking back towards her desk. She fumbles for the phone, dialling security's number with shaking fingers, but there's no answer.

"Fuck!" she whispers as it rings and rings hollowly in her ear. "C'mon, _somebody_." The door shudders with each blow, and though it seems to be holding solid, the knocks are getting faster and louder until Star wants to shriek.

The racket stops abruptly, leaving her in ringing silence.

She drops the phone into its cradle, resisting the urge to go and peek out the door - again, she's a veteran of too many horror film viewings. Instead she waits. And waits.

After what feels like forever but is likely only about ten minutes, she finally goes to the door, struggling to open it. The frame has been warped. _I didn't imagine it, _she thinks. It's not much of a relief.

_The fuck_ was _that?_ She closes the office door quietly behind her and walks quickly to the nearest stairway, scrambling down it, heading for the security desk.

There's nobody there. "That's impossible," she says out loud, too taken aback to care about how crazy she must look, standing here talking to herself. "There's _always_ someone he-"

A low but unmistakable growl rolls from the hallway in front of her. Star turns slowly, barely managing to hold her ground as her adrenalin spikes, but there's still nothing to see. It's between her and the main door, though, that she's sure of. The only safe place is-

Back at her office.

She backs up gradually, eyes fixed on the empty air where the growl seems to be coming from, pulling her keys from her pocket as she does so. Two more slow steps back, and then she'll run up the stairs.

Star gathers herself, then shoves through the double-doors as fast as possible, racing up as fast as she can, until her knees ache and her lungs burn, her loud breathing covered all other noises.

_It's on me, it's going to get me, oh shit-_

But it's not - it's taking its time, whatever it is - and she makes it to her office door in one piece, fumbling with her keys and listening to the growl getting louder, coming closer. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder, she's pretty sure there's still nothing to see. The key rattles into the lock and then sticks, and she curses. Then the lock gives but the doorframe sticks, and she whimpers, almost feeling hot breath on her cheek. But she manages to yank the door open and races in, slamming it shut behind her with all her strength.

Of course the banging starts on the door again, and without any other options Star fumbles for the phone, teeth set against a scream. "Please, God, somebody help me," she's muttering frantically, the receiver falling out of her shaky fingers and hitting the floor.

She's scrabbling to pick it up when the door splinters right down the middle and flies halfway into the room in two jagged pieces. Star can't see anything coming for her but she screams anyway, even as she grabs her stapler from the desk and hurls it towards the growls with all her pitiful strength.

The room fills up with a blinding light-

Loki stands braced, facing the doorway. He holds one hand up, ready to shift power through it, and when the red eyes of the beast meet his, he feels himself grin mercilessly.

"Kveldulf!" Loki calls, letting the power build along the ley-line of his shoulder. "Back off, mewling cub, or die; it's all the same to me today!"

The monster hesitates, gaze taking in this unexpected complication. The yellowing fangs bare in a snarl, and sickly yellow drool drips from the werewolf's jaws to the carpet, burning holes in it. "Lokkkkkii," comes the guttural growl. "Move away."

"I think not," Loki replies, and sends a blast of green energy crackling through the air. It hits Kveldulf on the shoulder; instantly the sickening stench of burnt fur and cooked meat rise up. The beast shudders, whimpering for a moment, ears back in hate.

"Misbegotten cast-off of Laufey's line! I will drink your cold blood!" The were launches its massive bulk forward with impressive speed, jaws snapping with bone-crunching power. Loki spins out of the way, using one boot to push Star further under the desk, and turns, sending another green bolt of sizzling energy towards the beast. This shot sears across it's misshapen flank and severs the spine; the beast Kveldulf collapses, its howl sucked away in breathless agony.

Star watches, wide-eyed; it's pretty impressive watching Loki fight (what she can see while crouched under a desk, that is) . . . especially when he looks like he's fighting _nothing._

Then there's a ripple in the air and she can finally see the thing. She takes one look and wishes she hadn't. Loki strides over to its broken form, and Star stands slowly, moving cautiously up behind Loki as the half-dead thing snarls and moans.

"Dude," she can't help saying to it, "You _fugly_." She shakes her head and looks over at Loki. "Friend of yours?" she asks, trying to control the tremble of her hands.

Loki shoots her a quick smile, and then reaches down to grab one long pointed ear, twisting it. "Why? Tell me why and you will have a quick death."

There's a string of horrible snarls and broken words, but Loki hears enough. He lets the power build once more then thrusts a palm against the beast's temple; the explosion is soundless, but the flash of light dazzles in every color possible. When it fades the monster is gone although ash floats in the air. Loki wipes his palm along one thigh and draws a breath, trying to control his temper.

"We must leave," he tells Star. "Now." Loki knows his voice sounds harsh and that his tone probably alarms her, but the sooner they leave the better. Kveldulf is dead, but the threat remains, and he has no intention of leaving his precious pet in harm's way. Carefully he pulls Star into his embrace, letting her hug him tightly.

They vanish.

-oo00oo-

They re-materialize in Loki's hall, which is just fine by Star. A pocket in space and time created by him seems a pretty safe place to hide.

He starts to release his grip on her, but she finds herself unable to let go of him. "Sorry, uh, I just, need a second, here-" she stutters. She's trembling from head to toe.

"Shhhhh," Loki tells her, well-aware of the effects of shock. His pet is certainly not used to violence, particularly that involving creatures of death and destruction, like the weres. He holds her, keeping her close even as he considers who might have sent Kveldulf after her.

And why.

Still, his body, full of adrenaline and desire responds to Star's, and he slides a hand to her ass, pulling her closer still against him. She may be angry about it, but Loki prefers acknowledging what he is, which is most definitely . . . aroused. A common reaction after battle and one often denied any release.

"You feel very nice," he murmurs against the crown of her head, smiling a bit. Star's hands are wrapped tightly around him, and even if she doesn't realize it, her hips are rocking ever so slightly against his.

"And you feel very . . . _hard_," she notes, smirking up at him though she's still trembling, if less. Then her eyes narrow slightly and she traces a finger down the leather strap that wraps diagonally across his chest from the shoulder-piece of his armour. "Is that the strap you, ahem, used on me the other day?"

"It is," Loki admits with a dimpled smile. "I wear it with no small amount of personal pride, although the flavor is gone." His words make her mouth draw into a knowing smile, and Loki picks her up, carrying her to the bed.

Ghost hands make short work of her clothing, and when she manages to look up at him, Loki has twinned himself, both of them smirking down at her. "Choose," one tells her. "If you are right, then we both will have you. If you are wrong . . ." They both touch the straps along their chests, the meaning clear.

Star can't help herself; she laughs uproariously. The two Lokis blink at her, confused. "Yeah, right," she explains. "Like you aren't going to make it so that whichever one of you I choose, you get the outcome you want. Your little game is _rigged,_ my dearest Lord, as befits the trickster god. Of that I have absolutely no doubt."

Both of them are watching her, eyes narrowed, obviously deciding how to react to her little pronouncement. Before either of them can get a word in, Star crawls slowly up the bed towards them both, with her most sultry slink. "And what if I choose _both_ of you, hmmm?" she asks, smiling up at them. "Is that an option, my dark Princes?" She looks up under her lashes at them both.

"Only if you lose," they both remind her, and move to the sides of the bed, reaching down. One strokes her spine and the other her hair, both of them looking amused. "Why is it that you have no courses?" one asks her.

"Yes I have wondered that too," the other murmurs. "You are young and clearly fertile, pet."

She smirks and looks from one to the other. "Not _that_ young, sadly. Well, maybe compared to you, I guess. If you mean my period, yes, I still get those. We have medicines to stop one's cycle, but I can't take them." She raises a brow at them, leaning into their touch. "What, you mean you didn't _plan_ to come get me when I was, erm, 'open to the public'? That you've just gotten lucky so far?" She giggles.

Then she frowns. "Hey, wait a minute- I thought you said I'd get both of you if I _WON_." Her eyes narrow. "Changing the rules mid-stream? What a tease you are, my Lord."

"Our prerogative," both Lokis purr at her. "Silver tongues are not always straight tongues."

One Loki begins a slow striptease, flinging his clothing off in deliberately provocative moves. The other watches along with Star, amused at her reaction to it all. When the newly bared Loki is done, he leans over the bed and kisses the other Loki.

Star giggles again. "'Straight'? No, apparently not." She watches the two of them, squirming impatiently. When it becomes obvious that they are ignoring her, she pouts and moves to the edge of the bed, sliding one hand along each of their rears - one bare, one clothed. Both are very nice to touch, however, in her humble opinion.

They break apart and gaze down at her, the matching grins amused. "Loving one's self is a private pleasure," the clothed Loki admits, "but loving _you _is much better."

Nude Loki helps undress clothed Loki until it's impossible to tell them apart. They pull Star up between them, each kissing a different side of her neck.

Star groans softly and wraps her arms around them, sandwiching herself between their hard, warm bodies. "This is turning out to be_ such_ an interesting day. First I get attacked by a . . . hairball on 'roids, and now I am getting attacked in a different way by two hot gods of Mischief. Didn't see that coming." She giggles again and turns her head to kiss the Loki on her right.

"Shhh," one of them murmurs. "Needs."

They draw her down to the mattress, pressing close on either side of their pet. Loki likes being able to use this second self this way; to caress and love his pet with another body. Clearly she seems pleased with it as well, toying with each of them in turn, until he pulls her into a deep kiss, taking her full attention.

"You need something to soothe you," he tells her, and it's easy to shift after that. He makes his twin lie down, then lays Star on top of him, both of them facing up.

She looks up at him with mock suspicion. "What are you up to _now_?" Smirking, she turns her head and addresses the Loki underneath her. "Do you know what he's up to? I don't have a clue. Hi there, how are you? Come here often, handsome?" she jokes conversationally to Loki-underneath-her, as if the Loki kneeling on the bed isn't even there.

The one under her flexes his hips, and the tip of his shaft slides along her cleft, seeking entrance. The Loki kneeling guides his twin's shaft in, and then bends to kiss Star's mound, his breath warm against her fur.

She gasps loudly at the invasion, then moans. "Ho-_ly _. . ." _Yeah, that about covers it._ Her hips shift of their own accord, letting him in deeper, and her breath catches in her throat as the other Loki's lips brush delicately across her nub.

It's slow. Deliberately so. Loki underneath has his hands around her hips, rocking gently into Star, his thick shaft stroking deep and rubbing that front wall inside of her while the kneeling Loki makes it a point to lick around that moving shaft, his tongue gliding in teasing counterpoint, and sliding over her little button at unexpected moments. The beauty, Loki knows, is that the rhythm is perfect since they ARE the same being. Star writhes, trying to brace her heels outside under-Loki's legs, but they want to wrap around kneeling Loki, he can tell.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she's gasping. It's not original but it conveys the point. Her hands scrabble aimlessly on the sheets, clutching for something, anything. Any_one_, to keep her from sliding off and losing herself completely. Her muscles tense, squeezing tightly, sweet pulses of energy gathering inside her, building until she can't see or hear or think or feel anything else.

Then Loki under her shifts his hands and lets his fingers lightly pinch her stiff nipples, tweaking them with ruthlessness.

She arches like a bow, head pressing hard into his shoulder as a loud cry falls from her lips, surrendering. "Oh . . . my . . . god," she pants once more for good measure, slumping down on top of Loki-underneath. She wants to reach, to touch them, to give them something back of what they gave her, but no, her body doesn't want to _move_.

Neither Loki speaks; the one inside her comes _hard_, the heat of his semen warm inside her. The Loki between her knees rises up and roughly strokes himself, letting his climax spray across his own stomach in a splatter that looks like a crown. It drips, and he grins, running his wet palm over it and chuckling.

"In _and _out-I've never done that before, my pet. You are more than any one god can handle, I see."

Star gasps a weak laugh. "You're fucking kidding me, right? The two of you almost killed me - with _pleasure_. Mere mortals weren't built to handle that!" She laughs again, trying to sit up.

Loki under her helps, letting his softening shaft slide out. "You were built for pleasure-to give it and receive it. Consider it your private vocation, oh little minx of mine."

Ghost hands bring hot, damp towels and the two Lokis clean themselves, then share the duty when attending Star. When done, the hands carry the towels away, and both Lokis settle around Star, bookends keeping her warm and safe.

She purrs under her breath, arms looped around one solid body, her back and ass pressed firmly into another. She's relaxed and sated and safe . . . so safe . . .then her eyes snap open as she remembers why she might _not_ feel safe.

She wriggles until the Lokis allow her to sit up. "Uh, when we're done here, will I be able to go home?" she asks them, her hands tangling together anxiously in her lap.

One of the Lokis sits up with her; the other merely reaches to stroke her back. "You will always be able to go home," he assures her, "but in this case, I need to make matters safe for you to do so. It was not mere chance that made you the target of a were, unfortunately."

Star has to laugh at that, humourlessly. She glares at Loki like he's lost his mind. "Me, a target? Why? Unless I flunked that monster's kid in one of my classes, what reason could it possibly have to-" She freezes, hand pressed to her mouth. _Oh crap,_ my _kid-_

She scrambles out from between them and off the bed, searching for her clothes. "You need to take me back right now," she babbles, shaking all over again. "Something might be coming after my daughter-" Or husband, though she doubts Loki will jump so quickly to _his_ defense.

"Your child and husband are not the targets, pet; you are," Loki tells her quietly. "Ever since we have been together, my essence, my cosmic imprint has permeated yours. As long as we are associated, that link will last, and unfortunately be apparent to anyone using magic to track me. I should have cloaked you from the start."

One Loki rises up and beckons the other, who steps over and _into_ the first, blending perfectly. He makes a complicated design in the air and Star sees within it a glimpse of her daughter and husband. Loki speaks. "They are shielded now in an aegis of magic that will last as long as we are lovers."

Her shoulders slumping with relief, Star goes to sit on the carpet at the foot of the bed. Leaning her back against the footboard, she pulls her knees up to her chest and presses the palms of her hands to her eyes, exhaling slowly.

She can feel warmth against her side as Loki settles next to her. "Thank you, Loki. I suppose you'll do something similar to protect me?" she asks. "I'd like to avoid anything like that again. No offense - because I appreciate you rescuing me, I really _do _- but you did cut it kind of close. Two more milliseconds and I would've had to resort to throwing pens. I know the pen is mightier than the sword, _but _. . ." she adds, trying to lighten her own mood.

He leans towards her, trying hard to keep his expression gentle, but the melancholy rises within him as Loki speaks. "I _can_ protect you; hide you from the sight of anyone with magic, yes, but . . . if you would rather break our bond, I would understand. There will always be a degree of danger in being with me, and while I can minimize the risk, it _will_ exist, regardless." It is painful to say it aloud, but his pet has always been bluntly honest with him, and he would prefer to return the favor.

Star takes another deep breath and lets her hands drop from her face, wrapping one around his hand. "No, I don't want to break up with you. Let's face it, there are no guarantees. We could end this, and then I get hit by a bus and die in a week. We mortals learn pretty quickly that you can't _live _your life if you make every decision as if you expect death will fall on you at any moment."

She shakes her head, then leans up to kiss him. "As long as you promise to do your best to make sure neither my family nor myself gets hurt, then I don't see any reason to end this. You may be the God of Lies, but if you make me that promise, I _will_ believe you."

He grins, feeling relief bloom in his chest, and although Loki tries to hide it a second later, he suspects his pet knows full well his emotions. "Well then, I believe a few formalities are in order. First of all . . ." Loki runs a finger around Star's throat and where his touch passes, her collar settles into place. "A well-dressed pet is the rule. And well-dressed _also_ means . . ." Loki waves her in the direction of a wooden screen on the other side of the bed. ". . . You should make a choice. I have a small matter to deal with and shall be back momentarily, little charmer." With that he disappears, and like the Cheshire cat, his grin is that last part of him to vanish.

She blinks at his abrupt exit. "Um, sure, OK?" she says to the empty hall. Star traces a fingertip over the jade stones at her throat as she climbs to her feet. "So _that's _where that went," she says to herself. "I thought so."

She wanders around to the other side of the screen, not surprised to see the sets of lingerie they bought at Très Méchante hanging neatly from it. The only one she hasn't worn yet is the black lace bodysuit, which covers her from her toes to just below the tops of her shoulders. It looks pretty good on her, in her humble opinion.

Star returns to the middle of the room, wondering what to do with herself until Loki gets back. Too bad she doesn't have her laptop, or she'd write something. The thought makes her smile.

She decides to take the opportunity to look around Loki's hall.

There's one wall lined with bookshelves, but every title she sees is written in runes. So much for _that_ idea.

Next she checks out the ancient wooden chest against the opposite wall. It turns out to be full of potions in a range of different colours, and scrolls inscribed with writing similar to that on the spines of the books. She remembers enough from her Dungeons and Dragons days to realize she's best off not touching _anything_, though she smirks as she ponders how many of these potions are, or will be, part of Loki's sexual unguent repertoire.

There's also a wall of daggers, a few staves, and one short sword that catches her eye. Star picks up one of each, swinging them experimentally, though carefully. _Eh, I'll stick to Vale Tudo!_

Then there's the wooden night table next to the bed. Star smiles at the top drawer full of odds and ends - she's got a drawer much like that at home - a dulled blade here, a rough uncut gem there, coins of various types, even a few Midgardian ones. . .

Then she sees it. A collar, exquisite silver filigree set with several small emeralds, the clasp bent as if it had been torn off. Curious, she holds it to her own throat. It's too big.

Is it even a woman's collar? Could this be _his_ collar? The one he wore for Angr-whatshername? Pensively, Star tucks it back away and sits down on his bed to wait.

Loki returns five minutes later, smiling, but there are burn marks on the leather of his armor, and soot along his hands and face. He makes an attempt to wipe them away, finally letting the ghostly hands clean them. "Yes, that's fine, thank you," Loki grumbles at them, standing still in irritation as they wash his face. He looks like a little boy in that moment, and hopes Star doesn't laugh.

She hides her smile behind her hand. "What the heck have you been up to? Battling a _dragon_? You officially have the weirdest hobbies, Loki."

He gives her a look, wondering when Star will realize he's been following up on the were. The scent of pine and tar hang heavy on him along with the soot, which should be a clear indication that he's been deep in a forest. Still, it's charming to return to his haven and find her waiting for him, particularly in the garb she's _almost_ wearing. The lace suits her very well, and highlights her sweet little form in a way that arouses Loki.

"I've been insuring your safety," he replies. "And would have brought you a fur robe, but what hide was _left_ of the beast was rather singed." Loki doesn't mention that the entire cave had been fire-blasted, clearing out not only the other were, but melting down the gold he'd been given to take on the assassination. Better to leave Star ignorant of it all. "Although the little fur you wear is always enticing."

Star chuckles and blushes. "I think I'll stick with my 'fur', thank you very much." Then the rest of what he said sinks in. "Are you OK?" she asks worriedly, moving to the edge of the mattress to take a closer look at him. "You look about halfway between 'well-done' and 'charcoal'. How exactly were you 'insuring my safety'? _Spill_."

"I . . . eliminated the threat," Loki admits, slipping his arms around her and lifting her up-not a difficult thing to do. "And I'm unhurt, merely a bit sooty. The two weres are dead, and I've sent a clear message that I and mine are not worth whatever price might be offered. A small matter, I assure you. Now, have you an appetite, or are you interested in other matters?"

His expression is closed, and Star can tell he's not going to give her any further details. Not that she's so sure she wants any. "I could do with a snack," she agrees. "Something tells me I'm going to need the energy," she observes, winding her arms around his neck.

"Yes," Loki assures her, finally smiling himself, "You will."

The dining table holds a selection of cheeses and sliced meats along with fragrant loaves of bread and various little pots of condiments and garnishes. Loki watches his pet make her choices, amused at how particular she is about her food. When it is his turn, he fills a plate and gives a sigh.

"Much magic is mine to command, but the ability to change this into chocolate is not yet possible," he announces. "More's the pity."

The look his pet gives him is mockingly stern, and he dimples at her. "No fear-I shall never have the appetite nor girth of Volstagg. It's not within my constitution. I prefer directing my attention to other hungers."

Star rolls her eyes theatrically. "_Tell _me about it." She lays a slice of cheese on a slice of bread. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "if you gave me some advance warning somehow before one of your visits, I could _make_ you something with chocolate, have it ready for you." She casts an assessing eye around Loki's hall. "Though in a pinch, I could maybe throw together something here, though I would need to get creative. Never baked over an actual fire before," she notes, taking a bite of her food.

He's certainly generous in many ways, she thinks, savouring her 'snack'.

"You would _make _something with chocolate?" Loki breathes, his gaze on her. "Oh that would be the _best_ of times, my minx. What_ever_ you would need I would fetch it. Is chocolate from a beast? I would hunt it. Does it grow under a sea? I would dive for it. Do you reap it, grind it, boil it? Does it require a flail or a spit? All yours to command if you need them."

Star can't help but laugh. She's not sure which is more hilarious (and endearing), his eagerness or his ignorance. "It comes from a bean. But there's no need to go searching for it - any grocery store will have chocolate of some kind. Heck, _most_ stores have chocolate of some kind." She smirks as an idea occurs to her. "Actually, I wouldn't even need to make anything elaborate - though I would be happy to! - all I would need is a chocolate bar, some cream, an empty pot and a bowl, and we could have some . . . _fun_." She winks lecherously at him.

Loki practically quivers, since the combination of chocolate and his beloved pet is almost too much for his senses. He stares down at his plate, not actually seeing it. "When we are done with our repast, we shall _go_ to one of these stores and acquire the needed items then. I feel that it would be . . . necessary."

Star giggles at his expression. "As my Lord wishes," she agrees with mock seriousness. "Though may I suggest that we change first into something more _appropriate_? I am likely to get arrested for public indecency while wearing this-" she motions to the see-through bodysuit. "And I imagine your armour will garner much attention as well." She smirks and finishes her bread and cheese in three bites.

"Oh I can easily turn the eyes of mortals from our true appearance," Loki assures her. "With my skill, no-one shall be the wiser and I will have the delight of seeing you just as you are. This," he decides, "we shall do, yes."

Before his pet can do more than stare at him with her mouth open, he makes the pair of them vanish.

They arrive in an alley between two buildings, one of which seems to be a market. Loki has dressed himself in his suit, and looks to his pet, who is scurrying out of the alley quickly, trying to avoid something scuttling around the trash there.

Star isn't too happy about wandering around all-but-naked like this, but thankfully nobody is staring. Knowing Loki, this is payback for laughing at him earlier, so damned if she's going to give him the satisfaction. Holding her head high, she strides purposefully ahead of him into the market, though she does feel a little odd walking in bare feet. Well, lace-covered feet.

It doesn't take long since she only really needs two ingredients. Luckily they have a decent quality of chocolate - Valrhona - and it's easy enough to find heavy cream. She also decides to go for some vanilla extract. "OK," she says to Loki, who is perusing the items on every shelf with great interest, especially in the ethnic foods section, "That's all I need, I think. Unless we need to get a pot and bowl to go over your fire?"

Deliberately she stretches, watching Loki's eyes rake down the length of her body.

Loki smiles, aware of his pet's tendency to flaunt herself. It's part of her feckless charm, and the fact that she is holding the precious ingredients for chocolate makes it all the more amusing to him. He fishes out a single gold coin and passes it to her with a smirk. "Here-payment for the needed items. I have more, if more is needed."

Apparently not, by her grin, but she also convinces him to remit it into currency that falls within Midgard parameters. Once outside Loki takes the strange crinkly bag from her and slides an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. "And now, home again," he tells her, and they return in a flash of green and white light.

Star wastes no time asking the ghostly hands to bring her what she needs. Soon the cream is heating in a small round pot over the fire, and the pastilles of chocolate are sitting in the bowl waiting for their cream bath. She grins, amused at how Loki looms behind her, his impatience obvious. "Good things come to those who wait," she informs him, eyes twinkling.

Once the cream is simmering Star instructs the ghostly hands to pour it over the chocolate in the bowl, and she uncaps the extract bottle while the chocolate softens. She can almost feel Loki's warm breath on the back of her neck as she adds two sparing drops to the bowl, then starts to stir the contents together.

She's soon left with a nice, pourable ganache. Perfect. "We'll let it cool a little bit, and then-" she bats her eyelashes at Loki. "I think you're a tad overdressed," she observes, licking an accidental smear of chocolate from the side of her hand as she gets to her feet, reaching to tug on his tie.

"Easily remedied," Loki sighs. "I could simply magic away my finery, but if we need time for our dessert, then perhaps you may want to disrobe me yourself. I know you are doing all of the cooking as well, but I promise you, little kitten mine, that I will repay your labors with serious in-ten-sity," he offers. Loki knows it's talent and effort spent on him and he will definitely return the favor, if Star wishes. For the moment, enjoying her hands on him is what he wants and hopes _she_ wants as well.

Her touch _always_ makes him harder, more aroused and aware of the lovemaking that is to come, literally.

"You'd better repay me," she threatens, but playfully. "It's not nice to mess with the Keeper of the Chocolate, _ice prince_." She adds emphasis to the last two words, watching as Loki's eyes narrow. He remembers the context of the last time she used that particular title with him, she can tell.

She smirks up at him, using his tie now to lead him. He resists for a moment, smiling devilishly at her, but then relents with a playful glint in his eyes too.

Loki allows her to guide him over to the side of the bed, both of them laughing after she gives him a hard shove, pushing him to sit on its edge.

"Impatient, are we?" he asks, striving for innocence. It's clear that his pet is relishing this little bit of authority over him, and Loki has no trouble allowing her to believe herself in charge. She flounces to straddle his lap, her clever fingers making quick work of the buttons on his vest and shirt, unwrapping him like a present.

As she does this, he weaves his fingers into the lace of her catsuit, enjoying the sensation of Star in the web of pretty thread. When she shifts he can see her stiff nipples rubbing and poking through, so he bends his head to nibble on them, earning a little squeak from her.

She sucks in a shuddery breath as he continues to tease and play, winding her fingers into inky strands of hair. As her thighs tighten along his hips, his laugh brushes against her prickling skin. _Oh yeah? _She thinks. _Two can play_ this _game_.

Star caresses his jacket, shirt and vest free of his shoulders and arms but she leaves his tie still loosely knotted around his neck, mainly to amuse herself. She can feel his fingers sliding down her lower back and squeezing her rear end rhythmically, his fingertips finding and breaching holes in the lace to flirt with her skin. "Still this obsession with my ass?" she says with a laugh. "And here I thought you had your fill last time. Maybe you need some _therapy_."

Star curtails his snarky reply by pulling him forward by the tie and kissing him forcefully. He moans before he can stop himself, tongue snaking around hers, and she can feel the heavy bulge of his excitement pressing into her belly.

With an evil grin, she works the button of his fly and then lowers the zipper tooth by slow tooth. She brushes his hands off her and slides her legs down to the floor, reaching to pull down his dress pants.

Then she has to laugh out loud, throwing her head back in sheer glee. "Snakeskin boxers?" she giggle-gasps. "The Norse God of Mischief wears _green snakeskin boxers_? That _has_ to make it into one of my stories." She runs the palm of her hand over the hot, smooth curve tenting the front of those cute shorts, smirking at the sight of the head of his shaft peeping out from the waistband. Not for long; she weaves her fingers into the sides of said waistband and pulls those down as well.

"The serpent is certainly associated with me," Loki attempts to regain a little dignity but it's a losing battle, he senses. It's difficult to seem serene when one's trousers are down and a beautiful woman is caressing you. Still, he reaches a hand out to fondle a breast, and hide his smirk when Star tries to bat his touch away. "And as for having 'enough' of you-I sense that will not happen, pet. You are an enticing challenge still, if not always."

Her look is doubtful, so he weaves a hand through her hair, pulling it gently to cock her head up, and holds her gaze with his. "When I chose you, I chose well, little, luscious hellcat." It's easy to press a kiss to her surprised mouth, and the nip of her teeth along his tongue feels right.

Loki considers simply ripping the catsuit off of her; it's so very tempting to give in to a show of strength and possessiveness.

When she pulls back, she can tell that he wants to pounce on her. Star can read it from his flaring nostrils, quickened breaths and darkened eyes. She works quickly to divest him of the rest of his clothes - except the tie. "Can't forget the chocolate now, can we my Lord?" she reminds him in a rush, scrambling back out of range quickly as he makes a move to grab her.

She tosses his clothes aside, and goes to retrieve the bowl, but she pauses on her way back to bed to admire his gorgeous nudity. Almost-nudity.

Then an absolutely _wicked_ idea occurs to her. Wouldn't it be fun to stoke his fires?

"Hands!" she calls out in her best imperious tone. As if reading her mind, four ghostly hands appear, hovering as they wait on her command. "Good." She points at Loki. "Pin him down on the bed._ Now_." She _really_ hopes they'll obey her again, as they have in the past-

In an eye blink, Loki is spread-eagle on the bed. Two disembodied hands have his wrists, and two his ankles, and he gasps and then fixes her with a dark glare as she saunters up with her bowl to smile triumphantly down at him.

"You would dare to restrain me with my own servants?" Loki growls, startled and suddenly very aroused.

"And such helpful servants they are." She raises an amused brow at him. "But I am confused. Did you not just say you enjoy the fact that I _challenge_ you, my ice prince?" She winks and kneels next to him on the bed, her eyes raking across his form, lingering on his lower half. "Indeed, you seem to enjoy it very much."

Deliberately, she dips a finger into the chocolate and raises it to her lips, licking the sweetness off as if she is pleasuring his aching shaft. She can feel the low growl rumbling in his ribcage, against her knee, and knows his eyes are riveted to the motion of her tongue.

When her hand is clean she scoops up another finger-full, rubbing it this time across her lips, and then she catches him by the tie - it's more like a noose than a collar, but it will serve well enough - and kisses him firmly, smearing the chocolate between their mouths.

She flicks her sweetened tongue against his lips and he opens to her touch, eagerly siphoning the chocolate off her tongue, though his teeth scrape enough to be a mild threat.

"My poor prince," she sighs once she leans back. "How I torture you so." She dips a finger into the chocolate once more, and then allows it to drizzle slowly off her finger, painting looping lines down his throat and collarbones though she brushes the tie out of the way first. "I must admit, though," she whispers conspiratorially, leaning to let her lips brush his ear, "That I enjoy seeing you pinned down and under _my _power. It gives me a perverse pleasure. Or is that _perverted_ pleasure? I always confuse the two." She laughs and shifts to straddle his hips, setting the bowl aside for a moment.

Loki struggles a bit, trying to bend his head and catch a little of the chocolate as it trickles down his collarbones. It's not an easy maneuver, particularly with Star pressing sweetly along his prick. "You should be the one under_ me_," he breathes, "Wearing the sweetness and awaiting my tongue."

She wags a finger at him, then dips it in the chocolate and holds it to his mouth to let him lick it off.

"Good things come to those who wait," she reminds him. Still, she pities him enough to feed him chocolate through another slow kiss. She lets her kisses continue down his jaw until she reaches the dribble of velvety sweetness, lapping it off his skin. "Mmmm, has anyone ever told you, you make a divine serving platter, my ice prince?" she jokes.

_Delicious_. She enjoys the taste of his skin regardless, but added to the chocolate flavour, it's a special treat. She takes her time cleaning the chocolate from his skin, only to dip her finger into the bowl once more, this time drizzling it on his nipples. His hands and jaw clench, anticipating her touch, but she brings her finger to his mouth first, letting him suck and nip the remainder of the sauce off it before she bends to take a nipple between her lips, rubbing herself against his rigid prick as she does so. She's sure the lace is creating an interesting _friction_, as it is for her.

Loki fights a grunt, trying to deal with all the different sensations flooding through him now. The amazing taste of chocolate is further sweetened by his pet's kiss, and _then_ the heat of her mouth against his nipples and press of her cleft against his cock has him breathing hard.

He doesn't admit that the hands could release him at any time; better to let that surprise happen later. For the moment, the sweet torture of Star nibbling on him makes Loki feel like a pampered prince. It's frustrating and wonderful, and if he doesn't get more chocolate Loki senses he _may_ have to trick her out of some. "_Some_one seems to be enjoying herself," he murmurs hoarsely.

She giggles. "I rather think we b_oth ar_e," she points out, eyeing his pulsing shaft. Her tongue snakes around his nipples until they are clean, Star biting each gently for a final act, then she feeds him another finger-full of chocolate. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling around her finger suggestively as he fixes her with a smoky gaze, and Star barely manages to maintain an aloof air.

Her following move is to climb off him and then trail a chocolate-coated finger down his belly. She traces a languid line as his muscles tense and shift under her touch, and then with a truly evil smirk, she smears even more chocolate on his balls. He jerks against the hands, a half-formed curse on those thin lips, and Star gives him a faux-innocent smile as she bends to lick her way down his flat belly, taking her time.

Star can feel his tension building as she moves lower and lower, though of course she skips over his heated length, moving to sample the mingled flavours of chocolate and salt on the slightly pebbled skin of his sac. His shaft twitches against her cheek and he groans softly, though Star is _very_ careful, cupping his balls in a gentle hand as her tongue makes quick work of the lines of chocolaty goodness.

Frustration has just become torture, and Loki feels his stomach tighten as his pet's tongue slithers over his sensitive skin, setting the nerve endings into an erotic tingle. She's orally talented Loki knows, but this particular moment is delicious insanity as the scent of chocolate drifts around him. He lifts his head, trying to watch, wondering if he can take the tickle of those lips around his balls a moment longer or not. "Little fiend," he accuses in a dry whisper, praying she'll move to his aching shaft soon, before he goes insane.

She chuckles but she doesn't have the heart to torture him much longer. She slides back up the bed and anoints his lips with another sweetened kiss, twisting his tie around her hand, then she releases it and him and takes another scoop of sauce from the bowl again, slowly dribbling the sweet stuff down the length of his cock, smirking at his obvious relief, though he makes an admirable effort to conceal it from her.

There's the expected gasp from him as she shifts to lap the chocolate up, moving from the throbbing base to the flaring tip, before taking him deep into her mouth. She hums gently and caresses his balls, feeling all his muscles tighten until nearly every part of him she's touching feels like solid, velvet-coated steel. He's right on the edge, she'd take bets on it-

Loki grits his teeth, caught between wanting to come and holding off until he can drive himself deep into Star. Both are insanely good, and the moment of choice is approaching with the speed of a lightning strike. He feels his hips rocking now, and his stomach muscles tightening as his climax begins to build. A sense of chivalry makes him growl out a warning to his pet. "I may not be able to stop myself if you keep doing that-" Loki alerts her hoarsely.

Star chuckles and only suckles harder, strokes more firmly. Only seconds pass before his hips buck up and he cries out, heated spurts coating her tongue and slipping down her throat. She waits, reveling in the sense of power and control, until he is totally spent, muscles going slack underneath her. Only then does she release him from her mouth and move up the bed to kiss him deeply. She wonders if there's any taste of chocolate left on her lips and tongue, given how eagerly Loki's devouring her.

When their kiss breaks, Star braces herself mentally for whatever mischief Loki will visit upon her in retaliation. "Hands, you may release him," she orders, watching as they fade into nothing.

His eyes are closed but his smirk-dimpled and promising trouble-reveals his teeth.

"Catch my little minx," Loki murmurs, not moving. The ghostly hands re-materialize and before Star can move they have her wrists and ankles, lifting her into the air, and turning her, their supportive grip strong and sure. His eyes still closed, Loki undoes his tie and waits as the hands lower his pet until she's straddling him again.

But not at the waist, oh no. Loki snaps the tie around her hips to pull them down, opens his eyes and savors the view of her lovely sex just above his mouth, straining against and through the lace. More hands materialize, holding her up, helping to spread her thighs wider, and Loki shifts his grip so one of his _own_ hands grips both ends of the tie, tethering her barely an inch over his face.

"Chocolate," he calls, and yet another hand obligingly brings the bowl within his reach. He dips a finger in and raises it, works it through the lace to where the sensitive edges of her sex are pressing. The chocolate is still warm, and Loki watches as she squirms against the pressure and heat.

He tugs to pull her hips lower and licks, letting his tongue work through the open mesh of the lace, sucking and tickling lightly.

Star moans softly and squeezes her eyes and fists shut. Pleasure swirls through her and it's a challenge not to wiggle and twist against the hands. Oh God, how badly she's wanted _this_, held open for him while his touch slowly drives her wild. She whimpers when he strokes against an especially tender spot, her body tensing.

Randomly, she wonders whether the lace will survive this game.

Loki keeps up the tension a bit longer, but something must give and in this case it is the seam of the catsuit. He strokes his index finger along the edge and murmurs a quiet spell; the threads obligingly part and reweave themselves into the design, leaving a perfectly edged border around the frame of his pet's soft curls. Nothing is torn, nothing is damaged, but the saucy little darling is now perfectly exposed from fluff in the front to a V between the dimples above her ass.

It's a naughty bit of magic and Loki's grin widens as Star gives a little gasp at her newly exposed self.

"Where were we? Oh yes, perverted pleasure, wasn't it?" he croons, and reaches two fingers into the chocolate. "Now I believe it is _your _turn to wait-"

It takes skill not to have the chocolate drip, and Loki is very thorough, licking and nibbling the sweet, syrupy goodness of Star's arousal. She squirms but the hands hold her firmly, and Loki tugs on the tie to bring her hips down closer as he burrows his face between her thighs.

She's panting now, _caught_, wanting to move away and give herself a respite, yet wanting him to keep up the sweet torture at the same time. But he's left her no choice, there's nowhere to escape to, and she shudders and bucks against the tie, a loud gasp escaping her as he flicks firmly at the sensitive little bundle of nerves.

"Who's the fiend _now_?" she rasps at him, attempting not to dig her nails too deeply into the palms of her own hands. His tongue flicks again, coaxing a high-pitched cry out of her this time, the heat of his breath tickling her in a maddening fashion.

Loki senses his pet is on the edge, and for a moment he debates on keeping her there a while longer, but he knows that for mortals it's far too easy for pleasure to become pain, so he swirls his tongue in deliberate fashion, letting go of the tie and sliding his hands up along her lacy ass to cup it firmly.

She roils, her hips rocking nicely and Loki lets her ride out her orgasm, feeling inordinately proud of himself in doing so. In the beginning his pet was fairly quiet but in their time together she's gotten much more vocal about her thrill, and the sounds she emits make his prick throb in hopeful little bounces against his thigh.

When Star slumps a bit, wrung out and loose, Loki directs the ghostly hands to bring her down and right end up, letting them drape her on his chest-but only after setting the precious chocolate aside safely. For a while Loki lets his pet rest quietly, feeling protective, proud and pleased. He glances around and for the first time notices that the nightstand drawer is slightly open.

Star cuddles into Loki, enjoying the feel of his chest rising and falling under her cheek. His hand is gently stroking her back, fingertips following the designs in the lace.

She hadn't known he could do that, make the threads move and re-pattern themselves at his will. What a deliciously evil power of his, she thinks with a smile. She wonders what other tricks he has up his sleeve, a thought which sends a tiny frisson through her body, her fingers moving to circle idly around his nipple.

"Has someone been perusing my home?" Loki murmurs, his voice soft. He doesn't want to accuse his pet, and in truth it's perfectly natural she would be curious about his haven. The hands have orders to obey her and the Nissen set out food and drink to her tastes now. Even the temperature is now set to accommodate her mortal needs.

Star shrugs. "Had to do _some_thing while I was waiting for you. Didn't have my laptop so I couldn't write, and I can't read any of your books, so..." she shrugs again. At least he doesn't seem peeved about her investigation. "I didn't crowbar any locked drawers or doors, I swear." She shifts her position on top of him slightly, letting her thigh rub against his length, stroking the palm of her hand across the hard expanse of his pectoral.

"Mmmm, very little here would be forbidden to you, and that which is would be for your own safety my pet. Some magic needs to be contained, lest it destroy anything near it. I assure you nothing in my nightstand holds that sort of power-I may seem mad at times but I draw the line at toys that maim." Loki laughs softly at his own joke and enjoys Star's touch. She has lovely hands, and anytime she uses them on his skin Loki savors it.

Star snorts, but her strokes slow on his skin as a question nags at her. Carefully she shifts up, leaning over and across him to pull the top drawer of the nightstand open - she feels the unmistakable brush of soft lips and warm breath over her lace-covered nipple as she does so - and she snags the silver filigree collar out. She holds it up between them. "Whose is this?" she asks, careful to keep her voice neutral.

Loki looks up from his teasing and his eyes brighten. "That? That was a . . . gift to me, of sorts. I should have gotten it repaired, but time and other duties . . ." he reaches for it, running a thumb over one of the stones. "Some of the finest work ever produced by the Black Dwarves."

"So it's not from . . .Angr . . ._whatshername_." Star says. She's not sure why she cares so much. That's over, _long_ over.

Loki arches an eyebrow, aware of new tension in his pet's body. "No," he assures her. "She Who Brings Grief did not care for . . . ostentation. And she kept the collar I wore. _This_ pretty was very nearly a wedding present to me from a love-struck general in one of the lesser worlds. My female form had him enthralled, and he was determined I would bear his children. When I reverted to my true form on our wedding night, it was not the surprise he was expecting, and my lovely collar broke."

Star laughs, loudly, before clapping her hand over her mouth. "God of Mischief," she can't help snorting around her fingers, another loud guffaw escaping her. "You enacting the Norse version of the Crying Game, why am I not surprised?"

"Not as surprised as_ he_ was," Loki snickered. "I think the second disappointment was that I was not a virgin. In any case I was permitted to keep the collar and nothing else. I've held onto it as a memento of one of my better ruses."

Star continues to try not to laugh, tears streaming from her eyes from the effort. She rolls off of Loki and curls against his side, giggling uncontrollably. "You're incorrigible," she gasps out in between more giggles.

"I could make you male," Loki points out. "Believe me, it's an interesting experience. Once I made Thor female and he wouldn't leave his chambers. I thought he was embarrassed, but actually he was in front of his mirrors, fondling himself."

Star blinks at that, the notion sobering her. "Uh . . . I'd need to think about _that._ I often joke to my friends that I'm a man in a woman's body" -she doesn't mention the dovetailing joke that her husband by contrast is a woman in a man's body- "but I kind of like it that way. I'm not sure I'd actually want to _be_ a man." On the other hand, if she was the male and Loki female . . . well, it's something to consider.

Loki smiles. "Only an offer, sweet pet, and for another time if you wish. I myself think you would be a very handsome male, just as you are a beautiful woman. In the meantime-" he reaches for the bowl, "we have chocolate."

Star smirks. "And what do you suggest we do with it, my prince?"

Loki lets one corner of his mouth curve. "I will paint runes allllll over your body, and then lick them off. This is the best magic there is, my minx. Very powerful. And tasty."

Star stifles yet another giggle. "Shall I remove the lace first, Lord?" She waits on his word.

"Yes. Do this and I _shall_ reward you," Loki tells her, pulling the bowl closer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Star-Crossed (8/?)**

**Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005 **

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: Oct 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ OFC**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Loki and Star play their own smutty version of hide-and-seek. **

**Disclaimer: Not ours. YET. **

He's actually proud of his teeth. It wasn't easy to get them right; studying predators close-up has always been dangerous, but Loki knows that his fangs are perfect, and he yawns to show them off for his pet.

It's no surprise to see her flinch, but then again, she IS standing in front of a full-grown black panther, complete with green eyes and long whiskers. Loki flicks his tail and stares at her.

_One of my better forms_, he admits. _When I shift to this, the __svartálfar fear me even as I roam their tunnels. I love a good stretch in this form. _Loki reaches out his front paws and lets the curved claws dig into the rug as he demonstrates his long muscles sleek under the velvety black fur. Unfortunately his pet gives a whimper at the sight, and he swivels one rounded ear towards the sound as buried instincts faintly echo through him.

He flexes his claws again. _Are you all right?_

"Uhhhh, nice kitty?" Star says uncertainly, taking a deliberately slow step back. She's not sure what he wants from her. Oh, she's used to being yanked out of her everyday Muggle existence by now - this time his magic had swirled around her just after she'd finished a class lecture, luckily after all her students had already left the room - but she certainly hadn't expected to end up facing . . . _this_.

As she debates putting another step between them, her eyes riveted to his sharp claws, she wonders if and when she should tell him she's on the tail end of a period. _Shouldn't have tempted Fate by bringing it up last time, dumbass._

_Later_, she decides. More practical issues first: "Maybe this would be a good time to mention that I'm not into, uh, bestiality? I know human mythology is full of it - Zeus and Leda comes to mind - but that doesn't particularly float _my_ boat." Though his fur looks very soft to the touch, and she'll admit to being slightly intrigued . . .yeah, _no_. Full stop there.

Loki saunters closer to his pet, circling around her, brushing against her thighs. He can smell so much better in this form, and among the scents rising to his nose he breathes in the acridity of a little fear, a trace of perfume, the dried grass aroma of paper and over that, the richer tones of hormone-laced blood.

Ah, he thinks.

He returns to his starting point in front of her, his big green eyes wide and unwinking. _Mating with animals is not of interest to me either_, Loki assures her. _I desired to see you and summoned you before I recalled that I was not exactly . . . myself. This form allowed me to move among the wilds of Vanashi uncontested, and stalk prey exceptionally well. I enjoy a good chase._

Her curiosity overcoming her nerves at last, she walks over to his side, stroking her fingers along his muscled back. His fur is indeed soft, warm, and thick, and the rumbling purr he gives as he leans into her legs again makes her smile.

Despite her earlier words, as she continues to stroke the incredibly soft pelt, she finds herself wondering after all what it might feel like to be naked and have this fur rubbing against her, all over her body . . . _Perv_, she accuses herself wryly.

She wonders if the runes he drew on her last time in chocolate have altered her in some way. He'd sworn up and down that he hadn't been working any actual spells on her - and at the time, she figured it was far more likely he'd been writing 'Property of Loki' on her ass in runes, or something to that effect - but . . . he IS the God of Lies.

The memory of that act, and what he had done afterwards with that talented tongue of his causes warmth to gather in her belly now.

"I repeat, you officially have the weirdest hobbies," is all she says out loud, though, smirking as she lightly scratches behind his ears. She's never met a cat who didn't love her ear-scratching technique-

He feels like melting. Something about the way Star is caressing him makes Loki long to press harder against her hands, and the rumble rising up from his chest is almost embarrassing in its loudness. _Hardly a hobby; I was making an incursion into enemy territory . . . oh that's good. That's very, very good, _Loki murmurs blissfully. _You do have gifted hands._

She's smirking at him, and in an attempt to regain his lost dignity, Loki rubs his nose with one paw, licking it for a moment.

Star giggles, continuing to scratch, and his ongoing purr is almost loud enough to make her bones rattle. After a short while she allows her hand to slip down his powerful neck as she sits down on the rug next to him, leaning her shoulder against the solid mass of his side.

It's interesting; he's been waiting shorter and shorter intervals to 'summon' her. The incident with the were and the chocolate had been merely a week ago. But maybe she shouldn't read too much into it. He'll probably get himself captured or wrapped up in some scheme and she'll find herself waiting months before she sees him again. Best not to start _expecting _frequent visitations.

"Enemy territory? A 'good chase'? Do I even want to know?" she asks, stretching one leg out straight in front of her and groaning under her breath. She had just finished two classes back-to-back in the same room when Loki's magic had pooled around her, which means she's been on her feet for the last three hours straight. She pulls the leg back in towards her and repeats the stretch with the other leg, feeling Loki's quizzical gaze on her.

_You may ask, if you wish,_ Loki tells her, reaching out a heavy paw to pat her leg. The scent of her fertility is arousing in odd ways; he's not sure if he wants to mate with his pet, or hunt her. Possibly both, especially if she keeps working her fingers along his fur. _I keep my machinations out of our conversations so I do not bore you with them._

He flicks his tail, feeling restless, wanting to lick her neck and nuzzle her hair.

She raises a brow. "I think I just _did_ ask," she points out. Now that she's started touching him, she doesn't feel any urge to stop. He seems to be enjoying it as well, or at least, he hasn't given her any other indications to the contrary. So she continues her strokes, sliding her fingers deep into his ebony fur. His purr drops to an even deeper note, vibrating through her hand.

It seems he is as much cat, as he is snake and wolf.

_Hmmmmm. I am seeking to convince the son of Vanashi's supreme ruler to rebel against his mother and take charge of the planet_, Loki tells her. _The Regent is not loved by the populace or the boy. When I succeed, the shift of power will interest a neighboring planet and they will go to war. Without his mother to command, Vanashi will be overcome and fall. It will be peaceful in the end, and in the confusion, many important devices will disappear. Each group will assume the other lost them. You and I will know better though. _

It's hard to concentrate when his pet strokes him this way, Loki realizes. Her touch is bewitching, and his very animal instincts are making him hunger for her in that strangely intertwined way. Hunt? Mate? The two are more entangled than ever, and he feels the rumble of his purr deepen. _You are in your courses, are you not?_

Star resists the urge to smile. Such a strange way of phrasing it. Makes her think either of 'courses' one teaches at school, or perhaps running a race. "Yes, sadly. Our luck had to run out sometime, I guess."

She reaches around under his belly to rub his other side - don't want him to be unbalanced, after all! - and leans her shoulder and cheek against his thick pelt, breathing in the clean musky animal scent of him, his heartbeat reverberating in her ear. It's not every day that she gets to pat a _big_ cat. "Never mind me," she teases. "I have no pets at home, so I'm stocking up on my quota of 'petting' for the year."

It's hard for her to ignore the thin thread of unease his story has stirred in her, though. She knows his ambition is to cause discord and chaos, but as someone who lives her life in completely the opposite way, it's hard not to wish he might someday become a force for peace. Well, without having to cause bloodshed and steal things first.

She has to wonder also why someone so fond of tumult hasn't tried anything (that she knows of, anyway) to remove his number one rival for her affections - namely, her husband. She's damned curious, but it's probably safest not to ask. If such a thought hasn't already occurred to him, it's unlikely to be a smart thing to _suggest _it.

_I must warn you_, Loki rumbled, _I am not at all deterred by your blood. If anything, it adds a primitive enticement, but if you are in pain or do not desire sex I will understand, albeit reluctantly._

Part of him knows he should shift form, but his pet's amazing ability to stroke and soothe has him in a state of bliss. Loki stretches out his furry chin, wordlessly inviting her to stroke it, and catches the slightly troubled look on her face._ Yes, my sweet one?_

Star notes Loki's intense green gaze on her and struggles to school her expression. "Nothing important," she lies, answering his unspoken invitation and moving her hand under his head to scratch the point of his chin. "But no, I'm not in pain, that's been over for a day or so. And since you're the one who basically has to deal with the mess, if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me." She shrugs.

She wonders what exactly he means by 'primitive enticement'. Maybe it's a cat thing? She runs her hand lightly down his fuzzy throat and rubs his chest with the flat of her hand, smiling again at his purr; he sounds like a Harley Davidson.

Loki tips his big head towards her, whiskers twitching. _Keep this up and I'm afraid you shall have complete power over me, Pet. Perhaps I had better shift before that balance tips in your favor, hmmmm? Much as I enjoy this, I long to return the favor, and this tongue is not one for kissing OR caressing._

Star giggles. "Maybe I should call _you_ 'Pet'. You appear to enjoy it immensely when I do turn the tables on you," she reminds him with a teasing wink.

But she does remove her hand from his fur, scooting back on the floor a little. She watches him with interest the whole time: How will the change happen? Will he shed the cat's skin the way a snake molts? Will the cat dissolve into a blinding shower of light, and then Loki will appear? Or will it be more like watching a werecat turning itself back into human form, fur melting and body parts collapsing and morphing into humanoid form?

He gives a little chuff, shakes his head, and a flare of green-white light surrounds him for a moment. When it fades, Loki lies sprawled on the rug, nude. "Not an illusion; a true transformation," he murmurs with pride. "Had it been an illusion I would be dressed."

He gives his pet a quick, dangerous smile, well-aware that he's half-erect and that she's licked her lips. "Yes," Loki tells her, "You **were** arousing me."

"Poor baby." The side of Star's mouth quirks, and she crawls forward on all fours, moving over him. She pauses on her way up his body to lick a slow wet stripe the length of his shaft - he groans and pulses against her mouth - but continues moving until she's over his chest. She leans in for a kiss, enjoying the taste of him. After long moments she pulls back, bracing her hands on his shoulders. "I hope you wouldn't have sent me right back home if I _had_ been in pain, or not interested in sex," she muses quietly.

Loki gives her a surprised look. "You are my pet, and therefore my responsibility, little beauty. If you were injured I would do my best to heal you, and if you were not receptive to my attentions I would respect that. Grudgingly I suppose, but you _have_ rather spoiled me with your indulgences, and not every meeting needs to be a carnal one."

It troubles him that she'd even think otherwise, and Loki captures her chin in his hand, gazing into her eyes. "I _am_ lustful; the biggest lie would be to deny it. Indulging in you now would please me greatly, but it is not . . . required. Mine is a lonely life, and your very companionship does much for my spirits, Star of mine."

It's true, Loki acknowledges to himself. She is well-named, a star in his dark nights, full of warmth and comfort.

It reassures her to hear that this isn't just casual sex to him; even though he'd said he loved her weeks ago, in her experience men say many things, not all of them truthful, and he _is_ the god of untruth. She smiles and wraps her hand around his. "It's OK, never mind me. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain."

She turns his hand and kisses the palm, then leans down to kiss his lips again. "I'll bet that never happens to _you_, Silvertongue," she guesses, grinning.

"More often than you know," Loki finds himself admitting with a wry grin. "Although I generally am able to back up any claim or threat I make." He begins to undo her blouse, absently admiring the buttons on it. "As I told you before, there is no aspect of your body that I do not admire or appreciate. Let others fret; I prefer to savor all aspects of womanhood. Possibly because I HAVE been a woman in my time."

He wonders, briefly, if the male his pet is bonded to has the typical distaste and misunderstanding about monthly courses. It would be likely, Loki knows, and for a moment he feels pity for the man.

Star smiles and runs her hands down his arms as he unbuttons her. "I'm sure being able to inhabit both forms doesn't hurt," she agrees. She assists him in working the blouse off her shoulders and arms, shivering with pleasure as he pauses to trace the edge of her bra-cup with cool fingers. "What's it like to be in another form? I mean, do you perceive and think about things the way a cat would?"

"Yes . . . and no," Loki replies, pausing to think. "I keep my faculties and project my thoughts into speech, so that part of me doesn't change from my own perspective. But the sensory input is that of whatever beast I take the form of. As a cat I have amplified hearing and my whiskers catch even the slightest movement. That's not to say I'd have trouble tracking you down as I am right now, but as a cat, you'd never stand a chance."

The flick of her tongue over her lips gives him a hint of her thoughts, and he manages a smile tinged with cunning.

Her brow arches. "That sounds like a challenge," Star observes with amusement. She gazes critically out the nearest window. Loki's hall is still at the edge of the cliff, and knowing his preferences, it won't exactly be _warm_ outside. "To be fair though, I think I'd need some kind of head start. And maybe a warm coat, or at the very least my blouse back first," she points out, smirking down at him.

Oh, she knows she doesn't have a hope in hell of evading him for long, but that isn't the point, is it?

He feels his pulse quicken. "Oh definitely a challenge, but I believe the conclusion is foregone, Pet. Beast or god, I _will _find you. Just to make it a bit more balanced however, I would permit you both a head start, and a map. Do you still think you can evade capture in, let us say, half an hour?"

Loki notices that her gaze is still on his shaft, and he flexes it, as much to amuse as distract her. The action does both, and her blush is absolutely charming.

Star catches on fast to his little game, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "Oh, you'll find me. The game is how _long _it will take, we both know that. A half hour? Hm. What are we playing for? And you haven't answered me about what I get to wear. I'm not into freezing my tits off."

By way of illustration she walks over and pushes open (with a lot of effort, because it's damned _heavy_) one of the large wooden front doors. A chill wind spirals into the room, raising goose bumps on her bare skin and causing her nipples to stiffen against her bra.

She crosses her arms, shivering, and turns back to Loki. "You _like_ cold, I don't. I'm not running through that half-naked, map and head start or not."

Loki barely stops himself from laughing; languidly he waves a hand towards the door. "Very well, my delicate little pet, I can be . . . accommodating." By the time he's done with the gesture, the snows have faded, leaving green forest lit by moonlight. The scent of pine and grass drift in, warm and enticing. "Better?"

He can see it is by the way she turns to look at him, her hands on her hips.

"And as for the wager, well . . . When I win, I think having you on your knees before me would be sufficient enticement. I do love a good little pet on her pillow."

Loki knows it's a bit of a taunt, but it's fun to watch his pet begin to bristle.

"And what do I get when _I _win?" she asks tartly. "I'm not going to take on what you're telling me is a nearly impossible task, without some kind of incentive." Her eyes narrow as she retraces her steps to the rug. "And while we're still discussing terms, I think the playing field needs to be even more level. I say you don't get to use any magic, except whatever you need to use to shift shape. That's all. It's only fair, since I don't have magic of any kind," she points out as she reaches down to snag her discarded blouse.

"_Name _your prize," Loki replies coolly. "I don't need magic to find you; I don't even_ need_ to change shape, little pet. In fact, maybe I'll give YOU the ability to change shape-would that balance the scales sufficiently?"

He rises and reluctantly dresses in leggings and a rough-weave tunic as Star considers his offer. Part of him hopes she takes it-Loki is curious to see how his pet would handle magic and what creature she might shape herself into.

Star slips her blouse back on and buttons it up as she considers. She has no idea what 'prize' she wants - and it's likely academic anyway, since he'll probably win - so she focuses on his offer.

"Are there any dangers in me taking on another shape?" she inquires. She's read far too many fantasy novels where someone shape-shifts but later loses their humanity, becoming 'lost' forever in their new form, to consider doing such a thing lightly.

"Only in falling in love with the freedom, I suppose," Loki tells her. "You will retain your humanity within whatever form you choose, and you may shift by concentrating on your collar. Think collar and form, and for our time this time you shall have the power to alter yourself."

Loki is well-aware that giving her a focus will help; he himself can do it without one, especially after all these years, but his pet is new to the ways of magic and will need guidance. "You will feel your creature-self responses and still be able to choose what action you want to take. Still interested?"

"Hell yes," she answers. "How many people get a chance like this?" She pauses to think. She'll need a creature that can move fast, and Loki probably has the right idea with something cat-like . . . a cheetah? No, she doesn't think it's all that suited to forest terrain, being a creature of the savannah. Mind you, she's not sure exactly what she _is_ facing- "Can I see the map? And I suppose I'll need-" She smiles and points to her bare neck.

He waves and watches as the collar appears around his pet's throat, the stones as green as the forest outside and look lovely against her skin. Loki comes forward and holds out a small vellum scroll. "The map. I will go and read for an hour, and let you try and hide yourself. I would wish you good luck, but fear it will all be mine, pretty toy."

"We'll see," she counters slyly, stretching up and weaving her fingers in his hair, drawing him down into a passionate kiss. She steps away from him, unrolling the map and scanning it over.

She quickly decides her best strategy is to stay off the earth as much as she can - he can't follow footprints and bent grass if there isn't any! And also to shift shape a few times to throw him off.

According to the map there's a river bisecting the forest that now apparently surrounds them. Excellent. She won't escape him, and he's probably going to cheat no matter what he's promised her, but . . . she'll give it her best shot.

"OK, I'm going to set my timer for one hour as soon as I walk out those doors, and then you have thirty minutes after that to find me. Agreed?"

He's sitting on his throne now, hands steepled in front of him and watching her with a very predatory gaze, one that makes the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Prey before the hunter; exactly how he wants her to feel, no doubt. "Agreed," he says, his voice low and deep. She fights a shiver.

"Then I guess you'd better power me up," she suggests, bracing herself in case his shape-change spell hurts as it takes hold.

Loki lifts his chin and extends one arm towards her, murmuring a string of syllables and letting a charge of red-tinged sparkles roll down the lean muscles to fly off of his fingertips. The sizzle hits Star and sinks in with an almost musical chime. After checking to make sure she's absorbed it and is unharmed, Loki cocks his head and motions to the open door, his smile almost droll.

"I will find you shortly, my precious pet, and bring you back to your little pillow, all the better to serve me."

He laughs when she slams the door, and sits down again, reaching for his copy of the Prose Edda bound in dragon-hide, and thumbs through his favorite parts, trying to concentrate. It's difficult though-images of Star as a bird, or a wolf or a doe keep flittering through his mind, all of them graceful and quick. He knows he can run a fair distance without magic, but any or all of those forms will make the chase difficult on foot.

Loki knows he could cheat; that she probably expects him to, but part of him wants the physical challenge of going after her in true hunter form. He smiles to himself, fingers restless against the binding of the book.

Star turns away from the doors. _Ignore his taunts,_ she coaches herself. _He's just trying to distract you, throw you off your game. _She sets her watch to chime in one hour, then pulls out the map again, nodding after a moment.

She rolls it back up and shoves it into a pocket of her jeans, then puts a hand to her collar and concentrates. Pale green light fills her eyes and mind for a moment, and her flesh tingles and tickles-

When her eyes clear, everything is different. The grass, which was formerly just brushing along her shins, is now so tall it's like being in a bizarre forest. Her eyes can see so much better in the moonlight, and scents she never noticed before tantalize her senses. The little black mouse twitches her whiskers, then sits back on her hind legs and grooms herself as a new thought occurs to her.

Why run? Loki _expects_ her to run. To put as much distance between them as possible. So why not try to throw him off by sticking close? Say, crawl along close to the wall of his hall - and her mouse's brain, always fearful of aerial predators, approves heartily of that plan - until she reaches the opposite end, then find a hole in it and hunker down. Or maybe even find a way back in, and squirm back indoors once he leaves?

The sneakiness of the notion makes the mouse squeak with laughter.

She turns back towards the hall, intending to follow through with that idea . . .but then she stops. He said he'd give her an hour to hide herself, and does she really want to spend all that time sitting right _here_, fidgeting and hoping he won't think of looking for her practically on his doorstep?

She wonders also why he has been so generous, giving her a full hour to hide herself. Surely if she just tries to run, as far and as fast as she can, he won't be able to catch up to her within the half-hour allotted, let alone search for her?

Unless he _cheats_. Well if he does, then in a way she's won, right? Forcing Mr. High and Mighty to use his magic like a crutch . . . not too shabby for a 'weak' little mortal.

The mouse laughs squeakily again. Before taking off towards the trees, however, first she tries to fool him into wasting additional time - maybe - by scurrying around the perimeter of his hall as fast as her dainty pink paws will take her. If he's a good enough tracker to even see those tracks, then let his reward be a waste of precious search time.

After a quick break to groom her whiskers, she lays a paw on the collar - it had not disappeared like her clothes and watch, but is still around her neck in a mouse-sized form - and shifts into the shape of a crow. Beating her wings rapidly and fighting back a mocking caw, she circles once over the roof of Loki's hall, then makes her way over the treetops towards the river.

Loki realizes he's read the same page three times now without taking in a word of it. No matter; he knows the legends. He's _lived_ the legends so inaccurately recorded by biased Midgardian scribes. With a snap Loki closes the book and rises, pacing towards the bed.

Has enough time passed yet? He isn't sure. There's an ache in his loins and a playful sense of restlessness that keeps him moving around his hall, his steps loud in the quiet. The scent of green grass and pine-so different from the cold of snow and ice-works its way into his senses and makes him that much keener for the hunt.

_THE hunt_, Loki thinks with pleasure. A hunt that will end with his pet under him, acknowledging his power over her. That thought sharpens his desire to a low thrum in his veins.

Star speeds through the air, marveling at how her bird brain (not dumb at all, though she already knew that) automatically adjusts her flight to the air currents, her weightless body and wings catching them effortlessly. Though she _is _easily distracted by shiny things, such as the occasional gleam of moonlight on a turned leaf far below her.

She's always been fascinated by animal behaviour, ever since bringing home a massive full-colour illustrated book on it as a child. To this day she remembers the page about stickleback fish and their courtship behaviours. So now, to actually be _in_ an animal's mind, to witness how it works . . . well, she wishes she didn't have the task of trying to hide from Loki to distract her, so she could focus entirely on this fascinating process instead. _I'll ask him if I can do this again sometime, _she promises herself.

The forest eventually opens up beneath her in a wide swath, and there is her goal - the river. She folds her wings and drops down, cawing triumphantly.

She lands and hops along the riverbank, thinking. She puts her foot to the collar still around her neck, and a moment later a black mare stands in the bird's place, pawing at the bank and snorting, shaking her mane before wading into the icy water. It comes up about halfway to her knees, the current pushing strongly against her legs, but she begins to trot upstream, marveling at the power and grace in this new body.

She hopes she's leading Loki a merry chase. Or will, once the hour is up.

Loki sighs and summons a Midgardian timepiece, checking it carefully. There are still fifteen minutes to go, and he's sure each one will take an eternity to pass. Even though he's tempted to begin the hunt early, it's a matter of pride to keep his word to his pet. Another twist of his fingers and a copy of the map appears in his palm.

He knows his haven well, having created it himself, but it's been a while since he's roamed beyond the doorsill of his hall, and much of that territory has stayed hidden under snow. Star is right; he does prefer the cold. It's easier to create, and he finds it soothing. Still, there are factors to this hunt that his pet hasn't realized yet, and those will give him an edge in finding her. Not exactly magic, Loki knows, but not information he volunteered either.

With a smirk he wonders if she will realize either of them before he starts.

The mare shakes her mane and prances through the rushing water, neighing. The part of her brain which is still Star is thrilled - this is like a dream come true. How many times did she read The Black Stallion as a child? Too many to count. And now to _be _a horse-

She's so absorbed in enjoying the strength and speed of this new body that it takes her some time to notice that while her long legs are moving, and the river and forest still seem to stretch out endlessly ahead of her . . . she's not actually making any progress. The tumbled piles of boulders to her left on the riverbank, for example, are not _moving_.

She whinnies, tossing her head and stopping dead. _What the hell-_

Star wades out onto the bank of the river, trying to move forward from that point instead, but again, even though there's no resistance, she can't actually move forward anymore.

Has Loki found her already?

She wheels, looking behind and all around her, but she seems to be alone still.

She shakes herself, chuffing. Maybe it's a trick of his? She touches her nose to the collar and morphs quickly back to human form, damp and shivering with cold, to check her watch-

_What the- _The numbers are flashing in and out of existence, changing randomly even as she stares. _Oh crap._ How is she supposed to know how much time she has left to hide? Or even if he'll find her within their agreed-upon deadline?

She decides she can't afford to waste time on this, or on trying to figure out why she can't run any further. She needs to hide, now.

The bank is covered with her muddy hoof prints and now footprints, so she shifts back into mare form and wades right back into the river, retracing her steps downstream for a few minutes. Then she does her best to make sure there are no tracks leading from the river for Loki to follow: she goes to one side of the river, turns, and then gallops as fast as she can in the confined space.

When she's just about to step on the bank, instead she _leaps_ as far as she can into the forest's edge, changing in mid-air to another form. He can't track her exit from the river with no prints, right?

She lands as an ocelot, as lightly as she can, and looks up at the trees. The plan remains to stay off the earth, and from what she remembers, this cat can climb trees very well. She purrs at the thought of managing to throw Loki for a loop.

Star climbs the first tree large enough to bear her weight, and then leaps from branch to branch and tree to tree, her agile body and sharp claws serving her well. Again, she marvels at how her animal brain somehow instinctively knows which branches will bear her weight and which will not.

After a couple of minutes she decides it's finally time to stop running. She finds a sturdy fork in a tree, shielded by a screen of leaves, and hunkers down, flattening her ears. Let the waiting begin.

The last minute ticks over, and Loki gives a relieved sigh, making the clock vanish. He pulls on a pair of fur-lined boots and a light cloak of green velvet, all the better to blend in as he heads out. The night smells rich with pine, grass and water, and Loki takes a moment to enjoy the scents. He looks up to the sky, noting the bright moon and smiles at it, then lets his gaze sweep over the immediate vicinity. She wouldn't be foolish enough to stay close, he knows; his pet is more sensible than that. Nevertheless he steps around the hall first, eyes wide, ears alert.

Star fidgets impatiently in her cradle of leaves and branches, peering through a break in the foliage to scan the forest floor below her with amber eyes. She _does_ want to be found, of course . . . just after the half-hour has elapsed. With her watch no longer working though, how will she be able to tell if it's past the deadline or not? She huffs a sigh and licks her right forepaw thoroughly. Can she trust the God of Lies to be truthful about that when he finds her? She's not sure. Well either way, it's been fun to try to match wits with him.

Loki strides forward, taking in the night air, letting it sharpen his senses. There are trees along the slopes, and he's aware of the sounds of the river, the soft splash of water carrying through the distance. His pet is nowhere nearby, he's sure-not only is she too canny to try and double back on him, but she's also just the sort to lead him on a chase.

And he's ready for one, certainly. It's a pity that she hasn't realized that aside from himself, she's the only other animal in this little pocket universe of his. There are no other creatures here-no birds or beasts in this tiny domain of his at all, and Loki doesn't bother to hide his smile as he scans his surroundings, listening for footsteps, or the flutter of wings to guide his hunt.

Star yawns silently, quickly growing bored. With nothing better to do, she debates how to react when Loki shows up. Simply wait up here for him? Bolt down to the ground and make him run after her? Or, if he happens to walk right beneath her tree, _pounce_? She chuckles, her cat-self purring, and goes back to licking her fur.

It's harder to move quietly through a warm climate, but Loki does, cocking his head and listening carefully. There are a few sounds that reach him-branches moving in the breeze, the murmur of the river-but other than that, his universe is silent.

Well, very nearly silent. Loki holds his body still and carefully swings his head from side to side, deepening his sense of hearing. It's not magic, per se-the Asgardians are formidable hunters in their own right-and then he hears it. A soft little rumble, and under that, the quick beat of a small heart.

Smaller than it should be, Loki realizes, and smiles again. So his pet _has_ changed herself, apparently. Whatever Star is now, it's bound to be quick. A rabbit perhaps? A young fox?

He moves in the direction of the sounds, taking the time to keep his boot-steps quiet through the grasses.

Star lays her chin on her curled forepaws and flicks her tail. No, she decides, it probably isn't a good idea to jump him. If she manages to startle him (unlikely as that seems), he may take a swing at her before he realizes it's her. He's _very_ strong, and could hurt her, possibly even kill her. And although she's no expert on Norse mythology, she's pretty sure raising the dead isn't counted among his magical skills. Perhaps it would be safest just to give in gracefully . . . or run like hell!

Loki moves on, licking his lips. He's aware that he's half-hard now, aroused and enjoying himself. What a moment it will be when he lands his prey, he thinks. She shall be furious of course, but that will only add spice to the moment. Perhaps she will struggle even after he's caught her. Loki grins at that thought, savoring it a moment.

He would not hurt his Star for the world, but struggling with her, overpowering her does have a raw appeal he can't deny. She's_ such _a passionate creature, so quick to anger at times that seeing that fury overcome by lust . . . _That _would be a thrill indeed!

Loki reaches the edge of the trees and searches the ground, finding nothing. He turns towards the river, keeping his gaze to the banks, looking for any telltale sign of his pet.

_Christ, I am so. FUCKING. Bored_. Where the heck _is_ he? She's better at avoiding detection than she predicted she would be, it seems. She purrs at the thought and grooms her whiskers. Her ears swivel, listening for the sound of footsteps. That's when she realizes - this place is_ too_ quiet. There's no hum of insects, no beat of wings, no sound except those of leaves in the wind, and the muted rush of the river. She hasn't even seen a single living creature besides herself. Odd.

Loki spots a few hoof-prints and the sight of them brings back memories. He halts, feeling a quick surge of heat along his high cheekbones, and rubs his chin as he studies the tracks.

"Unconscious choice, or deliberate taunt, my pet? I suppose I shall ask once I find you," he murmurs. The prints lead towards the water, and Loki debates tracking along one side of the river to see if he can spot any other tracks leading out. He knows this stretch of land is rocky, but short-he had never intended to make his haven larger than needed, and certainly he'd never anticipated roaming through it.

But Loki knows something about being hunted, and on an educated guess he turns downstream, striding quickly, his keen vision taking in first one bank and then the other. Nothing unusual and he wonders if his instincts are wrong when the scent of horse flickers by-just a trace-and he stops, casting his gaze back to the ground.

No hoof-prints here, but just at the outer edge of the forest there is a trace of sand, and there, the single deep track of a padded foot with four toes. Small-too small to be canine-and pointed towards the forest. Loki chuckles at his pet's ingenuity and looks up, towards the trees.

"Oh now I truly DO want to pet your fur, little darling," he croons and heads off again, feeling confident.

Her ears swivel reflexively- What was that noise? Star strains harder to hear. Did she actually hear anything (is it even be possible to hear Loki coming? She's not so sure)? Or is tension leading her to imagine things?

But her cat-self is convinced that an actual presence is nearby, and Star finds herself on edge. She flexes her claws, digging them into tree bark as she crouches, ears now laid back, and heartbeat speeding up. Her nostrils flare, searching for the familiar scent of leather on the faint breeze.

With her watch malfunction, she has no way to know if it's past their appointed deadline or not, or if Loki cheated her out of the full hour of preparation time. Perhaps she should act as though she believes that she's won, just in case she _has_? If he figures out she has no clue as to who actually won, no doubt he'll take full advantage.

She would shake her head if she was human, but her cat-self flexes its claws again instead. Star tenses, scanning the forest floor below with her sharp night vision, still unsure whether to stand her ground, or to lead him on a little chase or not-

Loki pauses, staring upwards into the lofty branches of the trees, trying to keep his presence quiet. He's downwind, so he knows his scent isn't travelling ahead of him, and he squints a bit, trying to focus on any unexpected shape or movement. It dawns on him how lovely the night is, how the greenery has its own beauty in the moonlight.

A tiny movement in a tree alerts him, and Loki lets his gaze shift to see the rounded form in the fork, almost completely shielded by leaves. He steps back and begins to move around, keeping his gaze on the form, hoping to come up from behind.

Her cat-self is really annoying her right now. Its senses insist something is coming, something _bigger _than her, and that side of her wants to run away, **now**. Well, if there aren't any other animals in Loki's pocket dimension, then it can only be _him_, and damned if she's going to let him scare her into running like a . . . well, fraidy-cat.

Despite her best efforts, if it is Loki, she still can't see or smell him, and the soft rustle of the leaves around her is covering up any noises he may be making, but . . . he's a trickster, right? No, wrong, he's THE Trickster. Which means he's probably going to try to sneak up behind her. Well, it's what _she_ would do in his position.

A deliciously wicked thought occurs to her, her cat-eyes narrowing in glee. If he's there and he's trying to scare her, flush her out, maybe it's time to turn the tables. Scare him.

Time to see just how far she can push this shape-shifting thing.

Star performs a rapid one-eighty and leaps from her hiding place straight out into the air, and as she leaps she touches her nose to the collar and fixes an impossible image in her head, _changing_-

The creature which lands on the forest floor with a thump hard enough to shake the earth is no longer furry OR small. Silver scales glimmer in the moonlight, as do the long talons and the shiny spikes adorning every joint and protecting her spine. The end of her tail twitches like a cat's still, even if the spiked ball on the end is a lot more dangerous.

Star bats enormous silver wings and roars down at the figure in front of her, gratified to see Loki stumble backwards, his cape whipped up by the wind coming off her wings.

"Looking for _me, _little ice prince?" she inquires with amusement, her voice booming through the forest.

Apparently dragons can speak aloud - or _her_ version can. _Sweet_. _And he's going to need a _bigger _pillow, _she thinks with an evil laugh.

Loki suppresses a chuckle at the sight of his pet feeling so smug. She's chosen an impressive form, and certainly anyone else would be intimidated-at the very least hesitant, but he knows that it's her, and if she's up for a challenge then by all means, he can certainly provide that.

"I have _found_ you, just as I said I would; therefore I have WON," he points out, and in a flare of power he shifts himself into three of himself, concentrating hard on making his duplicates move independently. "Be a good girl and admit it, my Star."

He and his doubles begin to circle around her, crowding and keeping her attention shifting.

Star smirks - though her dragon lips are not capable of following suit - and sits back on her haunches. She then extends her powerful wings, carefully wrapping them around each Loki on either side of her, and drawing them into her scaled sides in an odd sort of hug. Next she reaches to corral the Loki closest to the front; she's not sure if he's the 'original', but it scarcely matters. Her hands - and they _are_ her hands, she notices, if much larger than usual, and scaled and taloned - reach to gently clasp the remaining Loki by the shoulders. "Silver of tongue, but poor of memory," she remarks, deliberately copying the style and cadence of his speech. "Our wager was never about IF you would find me. The bet was that you would be able to do so within the half-hour time allotted. And you have _not_. Thus **I** have won."

She chuckles and smoke issues from her nostrils, before she bends her whiplike neck, bringing her glowing silver eyes down until they are at the same level as his dark, calculating ones.

"In addition," she drawls, "Did you not claim, ice prince, that you would not _need_ your magic to capture me? Yet here you are, duplicating yourself. How disappointing - Loki, the mighty Norse god, reduced to using his tricks and magic to capture one small, weak little mortal. By my estimation, such means I have won twice over." Her grin widens - both her mental one and her fanged one. "Perhaps I'll claim as my prize that both you _and_ your two duplicates must _service_ me this night," she adds in a faux-pensive tone, the notion beginning to stir her arousal.

All three of the Lokis frown dangerously. "You are mistaken. The wager was that I would not need magic to FIND you, and I have not used it thus. And I _did_ find you within the allotted time, my pet. I will forgive you your mistake and slander because I am a loving master, but the time has come for you to accept your defeat in this diversion."

He tenses slightly, aware of how delicate the situation truly is. The dragon form might intimidate a lesser being, but Loki is well-aware that under it is his pet, trying hard for bravado. It's one thing to be aroused, but another to let his anger out, and he knows how dangerous that would be.

She can read the growing anger in his eyes, and she sighs. Enraging him was _not _part of the plan. As carefully as she took hold of all three of him, she releases each one, then concentrates.

Being back in her own body again feels both familiar and odd, after existing in so many different ones. "Maybe you're telling the truth, and maybe you're not," she says. She shivers in the coolness of the forest, lifting her wrist to examine her watch. It's still behaving strangely, the numbers flashing and changing randomly. "But since my watch doesn't seem to be working properly, I have no way to tell. So for that reason _only_, therefore I concede that you have won, my Lord." She goes slowly to her knees in the grass, eyes downcast, watching as three pairs of boots move to stand around her.

He _could_ be telling the truth about the deadline to find her, she knows. On the one hand, he is the god of lies, but on the other, he promised never to lie to her, hadn't he?

Of course there's also the possibility that he sabotaged her watch, just to ensure his victory in exactly this way, but she figures it's equally likely that magic and science don't mix, and the shape-changing itself threw it off. There are too many variables to know what really happened here. She sighs again, waiting.

Loki effortlessly shifts to one again, and waves a hand at her. Star shifts shape again, returning to ocelot form. He reaches out to pet her, gently toying with one of her ears for a moment. "Because you are so bold and such a sweet tease, we will go one more round, oh sweet puss. You have a two minute head start."

With that, Loki shifts himself, and standing in his spot is a lean, glossy-furred wolf with green eyes and white fangs. His thoughts reach her easily, his voice echoing in her mind.

_Run_, my sleek beauty, and when I catch you, we shall see which how long it takes for us to give into our need to mate!

Star laughs inwardly, then turns and bolts deep into the forest, running as fast as she can through the undergrowth. Her small size helps, but the ocelot is better suited to climbing trees.

For a moment she considers doing just that, travelling through the branches again like before - her cat-self, afraid of the larger predator behind her, _wants _her to, and wolves aren't known for their tree-climbing skills - but it's clear Loki wants to pursue her. Her pulse races, blood thrumming in her ears, and the thought of him chasing after her stirs something deep within her, a _hunger_.

She does try once to shift shape into something faster - the cheetah - but this time even when she concentrates hard, nothing happens. Loki wants her to stay in this form it seems. Why did he select a wolf, then? Interspecies mating? Kinky! she thinks with another laugh, mentally projecting the thought behind her in case he can somehow pick up on it.

Loki watches his pet race off, his keen vision tracking her as she slips into the forest, and he licks his snout, feeling the restless joy of the chase begin. She will be swift, he knows, but the moment he touches her, they will both be human again. Human, and naked.

Her thought floats back to him about mating as animals and Loki gives a wolfish chuckle at the thought. Certainly they'd be incompatible, although having her wear fur while taking her does have its appeal. Perhaps later he might gift her with a cape or wrap, but for now-

Loki lopes off in the direction his pet has gone, moving quietly in a quick trot, his nose full of her luscious cat scent, his hunger for her increasing.

Star keeps running, though her pace has slowed quite a bit; she was already a little tired when he pulled her from her classroom, and that plus the earlier pursuit is starting to wear on her. She settles into a slower but more comfortable pace, despite the cat-self which still wants to _get away_.

She ignores its fear; she _wants_ to be caught. Even if she has no clue _how _he will catch her - she's not keen on feeling those teeth of his sinking into her - or what he'll do when he does. Something deliciously evil, knowing him.

And yet, he'd called her a tease, hadn't he? A _sweet _tease, in fact. Well, she sees no reason to give in easily. Let him _work_ for what he wants. He may have won their little wager - _maybe_ - but Star thinks he'll find collecting his 'prize' to be a whole new challenge. Maybe she can turn her cat-self's fear and reflexes to some advantage.

A howl curls through the forest, coming from behind her, and she shivers in delight, even as she continues to run, and to plot how best to resist. Come and get me, big boy. she purrs back at him, taunting.

Loki moves on, each step quicker than the last, and his stride becomes the easy, graceful run of the hunter as he scans ahead. His pet is just in sight, and adrenaline makes him shoot forward in a burst of predatory speed, swerving to the right and catching her flank as they both reach the far edge of the forest where a glade opens up, bathed in moonlight. His pet twists and snarls, her claws whipping out to rake his muzzle but the minute she touches him they both shift, tumbling to the thick grass in a clash of bare, pale limbs.

He knows Star is caught between cat-fear and human desire, so Loki pins her under his body, his teeth lightly nipping the side of her neck, his hot breath against her skin as he growls. She struggles, squirming under him, her hips rocking as she gives a warning hiss of her own, eyes wide and glittering.

He's on top of her, his body heavy and nearly smothering her. Her nails dig into his shoulders but can't penetrate his skin, don't leave any marks at all - she may as well be clawing at marble - and she pushes against his hip with her foot, trying to work herself out from underneath him, but she can't get free.

Damn, he's so fucking _strong_. She growls, turning her head away when he tries to take her mouth with his. She can feel him, hard and pulsing against her thigh, and even though she wants him, even though an answering heat is quickly rising inside her belly, she twists as far away as possible. "If you want me, Liesmith," she hisses through gritted teeth, "you're going to have to tame me. If you can." She laughs mockingly at him, turning her head now to the other side to evade his kiss.

Pinning her body is simple, but catching her mouth for a kiss is more difficult. Loki persists, finally nipping her lower lip with his teeth, making it impossible for his pet to shift her face away. He opens his mouth, letting his lips and tongue wet her skin, tasting the flavors he knows so well. They're wild kisses-not so much romance as hunger, and when he lets his teeth worry her earlobe, his hot breath tickling her, Star's body yields a bit, even if her mind does not.

"Why would I want to_ tame_ you?" he demands with a low laugh. "You are at your best just as you are, little toy-fighting _yourself_ far more than you are fighting me. You're a wicked thing full of passion and hunger that you keep locked up away while you live your Midgardian life. With ME you can be as cruel and spirited and lustful as you like. And that's the way I prefer you, my pet. Sooner or later you _will _open your thighs to me because we are both driven hard by our desires!"

He feels her nipples grazing his chest and reaches to rub one, flashing his white teeth when she arches up, her eyes half-closed and hazy with lust.

Star swallows a groan and fights to steel herself against his caresses, difficult as that task is. No, she's not going to give in that easily! She turns her next noise into a low laugh. "That's all you've got? _Really_? I think I've become immune to your silver tongue." She catches at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from her breast but it does no good, she can't budge him an inch. He chuckles low in her ear at her fruitless efforts and tweaks her nipple.

She struggles to stay with her plan. "You call me wicked, but you have _no_ idea how much. You only think you do," she hisses into his ear, fighting back another gasp. She reaches down between them until she finds the surging curve of his shaft, then rakes her fingernails along it, harder than she would usually dare. He shudders, and she can feel the groan he tries to stop against her throat.

"Perhaps I should demonstrate the depths of my wickedness? I wonder how easily you will find it to conquer me if I deprive you of your . . . weapon," she continues in a low purr, now wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking, her movements light and teasing for the moment. "You may have won our wager, but whether you will win_ this_ battle remains to be seen, ice prince," she observes mockingly.

Loki ignores her words, focusing more on how responsive her body is under him. He lets his hands slide over her torso in insistent caresses, and fights a smile when her thighs begin to part, accommodating his hips. He slips his hands around her wrists, pulling her arms up and noses his way around her breasts, pleased to find her nipples hard and sensitive under his tongue. The sweet scent of the grass and the glow of the moonlight add to the wildness of the night, and he shifts himself, rubbing the underside of his shaft against his pet's belly.

"Goood," he croons softly, cutting into the flow of her words. "This is us and it is right, my beloved."

Her heart skips a beat at his words - there it is that _love_ thing again - but she doesn't answer, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to catch her breath. Her pulse hammers on in her ears, a sharp ache building between her thighs as he pins her arms down - how she does so adore being restrained by him - and his teeth on her nipple make her push back a groan.

_Not yet, _she reminds herself, tightening her legs around his hips, resisting still. His skin is hot, his long hair is tickling her, and the grass under them both is soft. She forces herself to focus on those things, these tiny distractions, in an effort to put off the inevitable.

Loki moves from one breast to the other, then gives a pleased sigh. "For delights such as these I might even forgo having you on your knees." He hides his grin at her splutter of outrage, and moves to shift both her wrists to one of his hands even as the other slips between their bodies and slides to cup her fluffy mound. The move makes her protest die away, particularly when one of his fingers strokes the seam of her lips lightly.

"And now I shall_ tame_ you, I think."

Star shudders, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. His finger presses deeper between her folds, but only slightly. He's such a tease. _Fuck it_, she decides. The chase has been fun, but it's time to end it - she wants more. Wants_ him_.

His thumb slides lightly over her nub and she jerks, moaning. "And just how . . . do you intend . . . to do that, my Lord?" she asks breathlessly.

Loki purrs, the rumble of his pleasure against the sensitive skin along the side of her throat, and as he does so, he slides his finger into her, the ball of his thumb barely skating over her most sensitive spot with perfect pressure. He feels her resistance soften, knows that her lust is moving from simmer to boil. It's perfection, this moment of shift, and his cock throbs hard, pressing against the inside of her thigh, eagerly.

"Whatever Loki wants, Loki gets," he tells her, his voice coaxing and sweet. His pet is slick and hot under his fingers, and the scent of her has him on a keen edge.

A high-pitched whimper escapes her. "If Loki wants . . . me to come my brains out . . . he's getting . . . close," she manages somehow to pant. Something tells her that's the last coherent sentence she'll be uttering for awhile.

Her body is trying to arch up against his hand, seeking _more_, more pressure, more contact, and her head is twisting helplessly back and forth, flattening the long stems of grass around her. It's useless, between his hand on her wrists and his body on hers he's got her pinned. The hunter has trapped his prey, and now can do with her whatever he wishes.

He caresses her, rides out the first of her orgasms with infinite gentleness as Star writhes under him, the long muscles of her neck beautiful in the moonlight. When she slumps and tries to catch her breath, Loki shifts and slides his prick into her in one deep stroke, groaning with pleasure at her heat.

He moves slowly, deliberately, making sure to let each thrust build on the last, and when he feels his pet's arousal rise again, Loki reaches down between them once more, his fingertips dancing sweetly against her nub, bringing forth yet another orgasm that rises sharply and breaks with her little cries like bird notes in the dark woods.

The feel of her need, of her muscles clenching around him is too sweet to last and Loki lets himself come long moments later, the rush of his seed thick, hot and seemingly endless. Star's legs clutch at him, and her body molds to his in the cool grass.

After a time she feels Loki pulling out and rolling over to lie next to her. She waits until her heart stops pounding and her breathing slows before she moves, though she reaches for his hand for the duration, silently grateful when his fingers entwine with hers.

It's cool in the forest at night, however, and she soon rolls to face him, pressing herself against the heat of him to stop her shivering. The breeze carries also the scent of their act, swirling it around her; it's tinged with blood, and she can't help a wince. She'd forgotten all about _that _- Loki had been distracting her pretty effectively! - but she reminds herself that if it doesn't bother him, why should it bother her?

"Did I manage to make it a _challenge_ for you to find me, at least?" she asks dryly.

"A delightfully enjoyable one-at least for me," Loki replies his gaze up into the dark sky beyond the trees. "You have quite an imagination, sweet one, and make a lovely dragon."

The ghostly hands fly through the forest, bringing robes to them, and Loki reaches for one to wrap around her, tucking it in carefully.

She smirks. "Thanks, I try." Star snuggles into the robe - it's warm like it just came out of a dryer, though she doubts Loki has anything like that here in his realm - and then remembers something she'd meant to say to him earlier, though all their cat-and-mouse antics had side-tracked her until now.

"I also want to say thanks for something else . . . I don't know how you did it, but thank you for fixing my office door. You know, the one the were wrecked? I certainly wasn't looking forward to having to explain _that_ to the administration!" Remembering the were makes her shiver all over again and she burrows herself deeper into the robe, and tighter against Loki's body.

"Thor may have the hammer, but I have a few woodworking skills of my own," he murmurs indulgently. "And I have no wish for you to suffer the questions or accusations of others-you do not deserve that added aggravation." He slips an arm around her and adds, "I never realized how beautiful this little realm is, until you showed me. Thank you for _that_, my pet."

She smiles. "You're welcome. But since you made it, I think you ought to get full credit." Star slides her hands around his neck, guiding his face down to hers for a kiss. Then she hesitates, remembering now the _other _thing she'd been thinking about mentioning to him. "I have something else I want to ask you, but . . . I don't know if I should."

He pulls back a little and nods at her encouragingly, and Star bites her lip, wondering if she should go on. It's so difficult to predict how he'll react sometimes. Will he laugh? Tell her she's being needy? Get offended?

_Only one way to find out._ She takes a deep breath. "Sometimes it's . . . hard for me. Waiting for you, I mean." She pauses, searching for the right way to say what she feels. How she wishes that she possessed his legendary skill with words! "I worry that something might have happened to you. I mean, I know you're fighting battles and carrying out schemes, and I guess it would just ease my mind a bit if I knew that you were OK, that I'm not seeing you because you're busy, and not because you're chained under a serpent somewhere for all eternity."

His brow furrows but Star barrels on before he can interrupt. "So, I don't know, you seem to have a lot of magical rocks and whatnot. Maybe you could ensorcel one, a small one I can hide easily, and if you're OK, it'll be coloured green, or something, and if you're in trouble, it'll turn red? I don't know, something like that?"

It sounds a lot more moronic than it seemed when it was just some half-formed idea in her mind. Now that it's hanging in the air between them, she can feel herself blushing. _Oh yeah, you don't sound needy at all!_ she taunts herself. Never mind the fact that yes, she'll feel much better if many weeks pass and the stone stays green . . .

But what the fuck is she supposed to do - and how will she feel - if it turns **red**?

Loki smiles, and reaches to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You move me, little one, and I am touched by your care. Such a request is impossible to refuse, and I too will feel better knowing that you are watching out for me. I will create a stone for you that will reflect my presence; fainter color, further away, brighter color, look around you, yes? And if I am in trouble . . . I wouldn't want to worry you with that, sweet pet. Not for the nine realms would I bring danger to you . . . or yours."

It's hard to add that last. Her child he would never harm either, but the mate . . . the mate is something to be tolerated at best, and ignored for the most part.

Star frowns and pushes at Loki's shoulder until he rolls on his back, and then she climbs to straddle him. "No," she says firmly, looking down into his face. "I mean, yes, that fainter-brighter feature would be nice, but I DO want to know if you're in trouble. You already told me last time I was here that one way or the other, I'm always going to be in some degree of danger so long as I'm with you. So I'm afraid that's already the case, whether you want it or not." She takes a breath as inspiration strikes. "Besides, if I know you're in danger, then I can try to get help. Though you'll have to tell me who - and _how_ - to contact."

Loki scowls. He's moved by her concern but for all her brave words she is still but one small Midgardian. The thought of his pet trying to contact anyone in Asgard is ridiculous, and he doubts anyone on Midgard would take her seriously either. Not unless the token he makes for her is indisputable. He draws in a deep breath. "Pretty one, it would be a great risk. Think carefully on this, because you would not be the only one in danger should you choose to be on my side."

He watches her consider the matter for a moment, caught up in the way she bites her lip, and the quick brightness of her gaze.

"I'm _sleeping_ with you, and I think by default that puts me on your side," she points out. "Also I fail to see how having a coloured rock will put me or my family in greater danger. Maybe it depends on who you would have me go to for help? I know you're not on the best terms with Thor, but he _did _put Earth under his protection, so if I had a way to contact him, I don't think he'd hurt me. And you can't tell me that if it came down to spending eternity chained under poison, or accepting help from Thor, you'd pick poison! I think you and I both know that Thor would do anything to help you, if he thought you needed it." She braces herself for his anger.

"You fail to see how it would put you or your family in danger, even though a werebeast tore through your office?" Loki murmurs. "Toy of mine, you are unique." He pulls her to him and rubs his nose with hers. "And as for accepting help from Thor, I grant you that there _is_ a bond there, estranged as it is. He does love this strange ball of mud and all the Midgardians here, whereas I love only one. Still, I can give you a stone that can summon him easily enough, along with one to show you my life essence, if that is what you desire. It is comforting to think that you . . . care," he finishes slowly, not wanting to put her in an awkward position.

"Stop insulting my planet. I'm fond of it; it's where I keep all my stuff," she responds almost absently. His words have finally sunk in - it isn't just her life on the line, but her family's. "Explain it to me, because I don't understand - how would this be dangerous to my family or myself? You were pretty keen to have me wear your collar 24/7 back on Earth, and you didn't seem concerned about painting a target on me then. What's different this time? I can't make a good decision unless I have all the facts."

He laughs. "The collar has no magic to it-it's merely a beautiful ornament for an equally beautiful woman, and all the mysticism is symbolic, pet. But the stones you are asking for _would_ have magic in them, and could be used as beacons by anyone making a serious effort to find traces of me. I can put a veil over it, but it would not be completely foolproof since there are a few fools after me. Nine times you would be protected, the tenth you would not."

"Shit," she mutters, rubbing distractedly at the back of her neck. So she either has to sacrifice her peace of mind, or she has to (potentially) sacrifice her family. _You're cheating on your husband,_ she reminds herself darkly, _so who said you're entitled to peace of mind anyway-_

Star can feel a sudden wetness between her legs, and the scent of blood becomes much stronger. She winces. "Uh, maybe we need to move this indoors? Or at least get me back my underwear? Because, uh, I'm pretty sure I'm leaking on you."

"Certainly," Loki agrees with gentleness. "Whatever you need, my pet."

True to his word he rises and picks her up, letting her settle her head against his shoulder as he walks back through the moonlit woods towards the distant hall. As Loki does so, he speaks again. "When first we began this sweet madness I did not know if I could tolerate you being bonded to another, but you have proven your loyalty to me, and he is not a threat to my time with or comfort from you, sweet puss. I understand the ties of duty, and I know it is difficult not to take him or your child into consideration on these matters. Perhaps it would be best if the stone was put in a place where you could see it, but it would not be _on_ you. The eye of a statue, or gem in a piece of art perhaps. Something you could have in your office away from home and hearth."

"Hmm," she muses, sliding her arms around his lean torso in a hug. "It's too bad Nokia doesn't have long-distance service across the Nine Realms. That wouldn't need magic! . . . I suppose keeping the stone at my office could work, at least during the semester when I'm there so often, but on summer break I'm not usually there much. Not once I finish creating my new course, anyway."

She frowns, drumming her fingers lightly on his skin as she thinks. "I don't know much about how magic works, but could we reduce the risk by making it so that the stone is 'off', unless you are in danger? If it only triggers when you're in trouble - and I only turn the summoning stone on if and when I need it - then both stones would not be 'on' for very long or very often." _I hope_, she adds to herself. "Would that make it harder for somebody to detect them? If they weren't actively 'giving off' magic all the time?" She has no idea if she's making any sense; she doesn't have the necessary vocabulary to discuss matters magical, or so she fears.

They reach the hall and Loki carries her in, setting her gently on the bed. "A command stone would be best. Only if you speak my name aloud would it shine and reveal my presence. Should you say my brother's name, it would let you speak to him. The magic would be stored and strong, but become active only after your words. Would this do?"

As he speaks, Loki has his ghostly hands bring bowls of hot water and clean towels; he dips one and wrings it out, folding it over and giving it to his pet with a little smile.

She smiles back and wriggles out of the stained robe, setting it aside and cleaning herself, though she pretends to ignore Loki watching her as she does so. "So long as nobody can detect them if they're 'off', I don't see the problem. Someone would have to be looking for them at the precise moment I'm using them, and I imagine the chances of that would be small. But like I said before, the 'presence detector' would be fine, but the main thing is I want to know is that you're OK. I'm going to _insist _on that 'feature'." She turns her head and pins him with her most commanding glare as she passes the cloth off to a ghostly attendant.

"Which of us is the pet here?" he teases, although Loki finds himself warmed by her clear concern for him. He considers giving her a stone that only projects green-after all, his life is still a dangerous one, and giving her further cause to worry would be cruel. The minute it crosses his mind, though, Loki rejects it. His pet trusts him, and he finds himself loathe to give her any reason not to.

He gently pushes her on her back and runs a warmed hand over her abdomen, stroking long soothing touches to comfort her. "Very well, you shall have your stone before our time together is through. Be aware though, that it will _not_ summon me."

She sighs. "I know."

It's probably for the best, too. If she could summon him at will . . .she shakes her head slightly. That can only complicate her life - _lives_ - even further.

Instead, Star smiles archly up at him and reaches to trail her fingertips down the centre of his chest, moving slowly lower, lower. "Allow me to express my . . . _gratitude, _my Lord."

"Please do," Loki replies, trying to sound magnanimous, but there's a catch in his throat as he watches her hands caressing him. There is something more than sweet about her touch, something wicked and hungry and compelling in her little smile. He feels himself swell against her fingers and it's hard to seem unmoved by her toyings.

Star grins as his length twitches under her touch. She kisses his lips greedily, her hand busy stroking him, tracing the bumpy surface of veins.

She pushes lightly at his hip to roll him onto his back, then gently nips and licks her way down until he's throbbing against her cheek. A glance up at him confirms he's watching, enraptured by her actions, and Star suppresses a grin.

The taste of his skin fuels her passion as her mouth engulfs him, tongue swirling. Star pulls back slowly, his heavy breathing music to her ears, then she pauses to tease the head, teeth nibbling gently at the ridge at its base.

He fights a gasp, caught between the thrill of her lips around his prick, and the rush of pleasure in watching her do so. The sight of her this way plays on all his desires in the hardest, basest ways, and Loki admits that his pet is a sensual expert at arousing him. He rises up, elbows behind him, his gaze riveted on her. "Witch. That tongue of yours is the most luscious weapon I have ever had turned upon me."

It's amusing to watch her grin as she peeks around his shaft, her gaze the very personification of mischief itself, her look speaks volumes about her intentions. Loki manages to summon the ghostly hands, and directs them to stroke her ass, directing their fingers to tease and gently tickle her in an effort to level the mattress, as it were.

She shudders as the ghost-fingers play and probe. Even though privately she would prefer _his_ hands, she can't find much fault with their efforts. What feels like at least two pairs of them are kneading her rounded cheeks, another set of fingers is skimming lightly along the damp entrance to her sex, and yet another pair skates teasingly across the tight pucker of her ass. She gasps around him, and Loki smirks down at her indulgently.

With a last curling brush of her tongue, she pulls back and wraps her hand around his slickened shaft, then moves her lips lower to caress his balls. Trying her best not to be distracted by what the hands are doing to her, she amuses herself drawing words on the tightly-drawn skin of his balls with the very tip of her tongue - first his various pet-names for her, then the name they both agreed on using for her in his realm - _Star_ - and finally, her real name, the one she uses back home among her fellow humans. Though Loki's never called her by that particular name.

She pauses and exhales softly on his wet skin, looking up at him again. His gaze is afire with lust, and a low, barely-audible growl vibrates through the planes of his chest. Though she is not silent either, whimpering now as one of the ghostly fingers circles her sensitive nub with a touch light as a feather.

He's not going to be able to hold back for long, she guesses. With a knowing smile, she releases him and waves the ghostly hands away, turning until she is facing away from him, on all fours on the soft fur coverlet with her knees spread wide to give him a good view.

"I seem to recall you wanted me on my knees, my Prince," she reminds him, speaking to him over her shoulder in her most sultry tone. "Will this do?" She lets her hips wriggle suggestively as she braces her hands on the footboard of the bed. Just in case he chooses to _pounce_.

His answering growl is followed by precisely that, and Loki shifts, moving to cup her hips in his hands, letting his prick slide between her thighs and against her fur in a teasing stroke. "Oh what a good pet you _are_," he rasps, and commands the ghostly hands to play with her breasts.

For a moment he lets only the tip of his cock breach her, but the slick heat is too tempting and it's been too long. Loki drives himself deep in one stroke, his breath raw and his eyes closing as the pleasure flares through his hungry body. Under him he feels Star clench, her gasp turning into a long, sweet moan and the sound is enough to goad him on.

He takes her, hard. The rhythm of their bodies speeds up, and every thrust forward maddens Loki's lust. It's lush and fast, the slick mating of beasts and given his pet's howls, precisely what they both _need_ at the moment. Dimly Loki is aware of his orgasm building and he forces himself to slow, to slide one sweaty hand around Star's hip to reach between her legs. The wetness makes it easy to find the stiff little nub and he lets his fingertip rub it.

She shudders, slamming back against his hips, and the sweet, sweet squeeze is too much for him.

Star is drowning, overcome by sensation, but she doesn't care - it just feels too damned good. The evil little hands are twisting and tugging expertly at her nipples, with Loki thrusting into her hard enough to hurt, but it's the best possible kind of hurt, even if she's sure there'll be visible bruises on her hips after.

When he begins rubbing between her legs, that's enough to push her right over the cliff. Her whole body seizes, impossibly freezing and melting all at once. Loki's peak follows right on hers, his roar loud enough to make her ears ring as his motions shudder to a stop, though she'll swear later that she felt every individual pulse of his climax, moving into her like waves crashing on a beach.

Her arms give out and she collapses onto the bed with Loki's weight on top of her, sweat and sound mingling as they pant together in tandem, bodies shivering with shared delight.

After a while, Loki rises up on his knuckles, kisses the damp sweetness at the back of his pet's neck, and hums a note that makes the slick of blood, sweat and semen evaporate off the fur quilt under them. The ghostly hands sponge them both off, and when it's all done, Loki curls up with Star under the quilt, wrapping a protective arm around her and soothing her sleepy murmurs. "Rest-I will turn back enough time so you will not be missed, my toy."

As she dozes, Loki considers again how fortunate he has been in finding such a lover, and how well-suited they are despite so many differences.


End file.
